


Seven Seas Treasure

by Edmelon



Series: Seven Seas Treasure [1]
Category: Shugo Chara!
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Fortune Telling, Kidnapping, Romance, Slow Burn, plus I talk about the stars a lot, some good old Tsukiyomi family angst to come
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2018-03-21
Packaged: 2018-11-11 14:31:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 137,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11150379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Edmelon/pseuds/Edmelon
Summary: When Amu finds herself captured and brought aboard the notorious Shining Black, she has no idea that her path is already paved in the stars before her. She has no idea why the Captain wants her Lock; no idea that there exists a matching Key; and no idea how she's going to survive amongst this unruly band of pirates. But more importantly, how is she going to escape? Piracy AU. Amuto.





	1. One

_"There is a tide in the affairs of men, which taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. Omitted, all the voyage of their life is bound in shallows and in miseries. On such a full sea are we now afloat. And we must take the current when it serves, or lose our ventures."_

_\- William Shakespeare._

~.~.~

When the air was calm and the seas stilled, they whispered to him. 

When the world slowed under the weight of a starless night and the glow of the watchful moon paled against the darkness of the abyss beyond, they were silent. Not a murmur carried on the breeze; not a word nor hint ever reached him, muffled under thick clouds, choking out their voices. And on those days he felt desolate. On those days he felt like a candle without a light – useless, without purpose, wandering the night restlessly.

But every so often when the night was clear and the clouds departed; when the breeze sighed gently in the grass atop the cliffs and the waves slowed, as if lulled to sleep under the brilliant moon above; when the tranquil night was ablaze with the light of a thousand stars above… They whispered, their voices carried down from the heavens to meet him, gentle undertones like music to his ears that intertwined with the rustle of greenery and the breath of the sea. And on those nights he would wait atop his roof and he would bathe in the light of the stars and the moon and he would feel blessed. Blessed to truly realise the beauty of this world. Blessed to be alive beneath their ethereal glow. Blessed to be a part of their counsel, for, the stars, they spoke each with voices of their own. They carried thousands of years of weight and knowledge and tales beyond recall of man; of stories written in the patterns they wove across the sky. Here an archer took down his foe with his mighty bow and arrow; there stood a lion, its roar thundering through the void; and far over yonder where the sky touched the sea, maidens danced on a glassy stage, lit by moonbeams, until the sun rose up from the west.

But far more important to him than these tales of old were those much subtler voices – the ones that were hushed and lost in the clamour of all their neighbours; that were much more desperate to reach his ears. They spoke of things that were yet to come. They told him of things that were meant to be, that had been written down before their time. Many of them brought sorrow and dismay. Conflict was coming, they said. Death would visit that home above the inn, they said as well. He had found himself privy to many misfortunes before they had occurred over the years, but sometimes, just occasionally, something more hopeful would find its way through and excitement would bloom within his chest at the sound of some gentle voice whispering in his ear. And it was these voices that made his time beneath the stars so much sweeter.

He had known tonight that one such voice would find its way to him before they had even stirred. He had mapped the progress of the stars his entire life. He had seen the way they rose and fell and rose again and he felt his heart leap with joy each night when that first little pinprick burst into life at the setting of the sun. But tonight he felt an ecstatic glee as he stared up at the sky and marvelled at his discovery. A constellation stood out against the inky blue of the heavens to the east. He watched it with eyes wide, faced bathed in the tranquil glow, and he smiled knowingly, his voice a breath on the wind.

“It shines again...”

And, the murmurs on the breeze seemed to answer;

_The Marionette shines._

And to the west a second shone, though far brighter, and he was baffled, for he had had to scan the sky he so well knew many times to find it, for, the stars, they moved and danced and crept across the darkness as their stories were set into motion. They drifted, unaware themselves that their tale - their fate that would be set in the constellations for all eternity - had begun to steer them down the path set out for them. He called it fate. Destiny. Doom. It didn’t matter. Fate wouldn’t wait. Fate would fill the wind in their sails and kick up the waves and send them sailing off onto their proper course.

“It has begun.”

And the stars, hung like crystals in a chandelier across the night, whispered;

_They are moving._

~.~.~


	2. Two

~.~.~

Sometimes Amu couldn’t tell whether the stars really existed or whether they had all forsaken her. Whether they had for some inexplicable reason just decided one day to turn away and snuff out their pretty little lights and allowed the world below to be engulfed by the darkness; to leave the city stranded like an island in a shadowy sea that stretched outward and beyond the horizon.

It was strange. She used to count those little white sparks in the sky with her sister each night before the maids would pry them apart and send them off to bed. She used to stay up late after lights-out and crawl in a cape of cosy blankets to her bedroom windows and peer over the ledge to watch the universe come to life in bursts of white flame. She used to try and guess how many times bigger than them the moon was and how many years each star had seen pass by as it rose and fell each evening and every sunrise. But now there were no stars for her to count. No moon to gaze up at. No memory of how many she had counted nor how many months it had last been since she and Ami had been able to stand outside and stargaze together in peace.

But there would be none of them tonight. A murky darkness stretched overhead and consumed the city. It was like watching smoke roll out of an untended fireplace, languid and thick, dense enough to smother the light of the flames. What little light Amu saw from her balcony tonight was dim and veiled in the gloom. She may as well have worn a mourning veil, she thought. Even the Palace appeared cloaked in shadow that night - the brightest, most brilliant building in the most brilliant city in the world… and the night had engulfed them both. No room for the light of the street lamps, nor the lanterns on carriages, nor the glow of starlight. No twinkle of starlight for her and her sister to watch in wonder.

But whether the stars had abandoned her or not, Amu, princess of the empire of Seiyo, felt forsaken. As though the light inside her chest had gone as dark as the night sky. As though she herself was trapped, encircled by a swirling sea that confined her to this little isle of light through both the day and the night. And, for the life of her, she didn’t even know how to begin to escape.

Amu’s heart was sinking deep within her chest as she sighed and turned away from the dismal view from her balcony. She had wanted to stargaze particularly on this night. She had hoped beyond hope that perhaps, just this once, she might descry the faintest glimmer amongst the clouds - just once after all this time. She wasn’t even sure why. She was far beyond those innocent, juvenile years where the concept of wishing on the first star in the sky seemed perfectly valid and reasonable. But perhaps, just this once tonight, she thought she might have been able to go back again; to be able to visit that mindset again.

In the background, a clock was ticking away on the top of her drawers, counting down the minutes until her parents came to fetch her. She had a long journey ahead of her that evening. They would want to see her off, apparently. She wasn’t sure why. Not when her father had been so quick to arrange to send her off to some far-away land across the sea without her counsel. It was merely _“a formality visit”_ , so he told her, but secretly she wondered if she would ever be coming back home at all. Tensions with the empire to the east were high… And she wouldn’t be surprised if it was agreed for her to stay...

But just when she could feel her ire rising, she reminded herself to breathe. In and out. Keep calm. Stay composed, Amu thought. After all, it was already done. It was already agreed and it was already getting late.

Her mother had sent up a new gown for her that afternoon and it lay out across her bed in wait. Matching new shoes with delicate lace bows and a golden trim sat neatly on the floor at the foot of the four-poster beneath it. It was beautiful, she admitted, but then she had caught the way that it glimmered in the firelight. She had expected her parents to go out of their way to commission something exceptionally spectacular for her overseas trip - she had expected something bright and bold, something that would have made her feel oddly as though she were a peacock showing off its striking feathers, but this dress what not what she expected. Though luxurious and silky soft to the touch, Amu reached for the golden fabric that glittered in the light of the fireplace with a certain reluctance. She wondered how it would look once worn or whether or not she would be able to shake the uncomfortable and demeaning feeling that her father had intended to show her off as some sort of golden prize on a pedestal. As if she were some priceless treasure under export to the foreign king rather than a future Queen.

Amu laughed bitterly to herself. _Not any more_ , she thought.

Amu did not acknowledge her handmaids as they stoked her fire and drew the drapes over her balcony door. She barely blinked at the throng of women who had all of a sudden crowded her to help her into her new dress. She didn’t even remember their names. She didn’t want to. Their presence here had already bothered her.

There had only ever been one constant attendant by her side for all these years; only one loyal companion with whom she had spent many mornings and countless unfilled afternoons; who had occasionally stood with her and her sister at night like a sentry guard as they spoke and laughed and danced under the moonlight...

But she was gone now. She was, as her father had put it, ‘better wanted elsewhere’. Rima had been her closest aid - second only to her sister - since before she could even remember. Not much older than the princess herself, Rima had grown up a servant’s daughter, her mother being an old aide of the Queen’s. Since she had been just five years old, Amu had taken a shine to Rima. She was like a little porcelain doll with her adorable rosy cheeks and cute blonde curls and the way her face could both convey and mask a thousand different expressions depending on who she was talking to. Rima was witty and sharp when allowed to be and loyal beyond belief. And Amu had no idea if she’d ever see her again.

Her eyes began to prickle, but she tried her best to push the feeling away. It was bad enough that her father was considering using her as a bargaining chip in some quarrel in which she had no part - bad enough that the life she’d thought she’d lead was quickly shattering before her very eyes, but to see herself here all dressed up in royal gold and polished to perfection made her feel uneasy. She had always been her father’s ‘golden girl’. She had always been the golden maiden of the golden empire - the grandest, greatest, most powerful of all - dressed in shimmering skirts and fine jewellery. Amu was to be the jewel in the crown.

And, just like that, her life had begun to unravel. All those years of preparation; all the hours of tutoring; all those years she’d stared at her father on the throne and envisioned a day when she would be fit to rule with her head held high… It was all about to vanish. And for what?

So that her father might just gain a few extra coins in his treasury.

Amu looked back at her reflection. That feeling was creeping up in her gut again - that feeling that she was being all smartened up for sale, polished to perfection and ready to sit in the store window. She looked like a bell - like the one in the cathedral that she could see from her balcony set high against the clouds - or perhaps a goblet turned upside-down. Her skirts were billowing out from her waist and looking in the faint light as though she’d captured the sun beneath them. Pretty leafy patterns were embroidered into the lower layers, about her frills, on the front panel of her bodice… The flames in the fireplace flickered brightly for a moment as one of the maids added more wood into the grate and there was a flash of gold in the mirror.

The young Princess brought her hand up to her neck. There, looking old and out of place against Amu’s splendid new outfit, hung the pendant around her neck.

_“Keep it safe, Amu, darling,”_ the Queen had told her. _“A very old necklace, it is, so keep it safe for me, alright?”_

It was a birthday present that ten-year-old Amu had treasured dearly, yet, most of the time she could barely feel it there around her neck where it had been every day of her life for the past nine years. It was like a second nature for her - like another part of her. Whenever it was not dangling from the chain around her neck Amu felt as though she had lost a limb. That weight that she so scarcely felt when wearing it suddenly became heavy, like a fell blow to the chest; a feeling so undeniable and palpable that it would only be soothed when she felt the cool of the chain and the smooth metal rest back against her skin.

“Perhaps one of these, Your Highness?”

She was brought abruptly out of her stupor by a particularly nervous-looking handmaid who was proffering a jewellery box to her. Rows upon rows of glamorous, jewel-encrusted necklaces gleamed inside. She wondered if the girl was new, a couple of the other, older maids were looking at her as if she’d just suggested something utterly outrageous, but Amu just glanced around at all of them and waved a hand in dismissal.

“You may go.” she said and her voice felt faint from misuse. She hadn’t had much conversation over the past few weeks. “Go,” she repeated when her maids didn’t move, picking out a last handful of rings from the jewellery box before it was taken away from her. “I will prepare myself.”

And so the little group all filed obediently out of the room and left their Princess in the quiet of her bedchamber. She sighed loudly into the empty room, half with relief and half with exhaustion as she went to sit at the dressing table. Her makeup was fixed, her hair was twisted into shape. She idly played with one pink ringlet and stared blankly into the little mirror at the table.

The pendant was dangling, swaying hypnotically on its chain around her neck. She steadied it with a finger and looked down at its antique surface. She wished she knew how old it was. Or where it had come from. Her mother had said that it had been handed down through her mother’s line since before any of them could remember and,as far as she could tell, it definitely looked to have stood the test of time. It seemed chunky and heavy in her palm, shaped like a clover, each leaf bedazzled with a heart-shaped diamond. Exquisitely delicate gold filigree wound itself across the surface, a work of extraordinary craftsmanship on such a minute scale, and, most intriguing of all, there sat at its centre the faintest outline of a keyhole. It wasn’t deep, nor did it even stand out amongst the intricate patterns that riddled the pendant's surface, but it was there sure enough, always there to make her wonder.

When she had asked her mother about it on that birthday all those years ago, she had just hummed in thought and shook her head and said;

_“Well, I’ve certainly never noticed it before, darling.”_

That response still dumbfounded her.

_“But mama, it’s right in the middle!”_

_“It looks like just a pattern, Amu, doesn’t it? Besides, we don’t have a key!”_

Amu, ten years later and waiting to leave her home for what might have been the last time, swung the pendant back and forth in the mirror, watching as it caught the light of the flames in the fireplace.

_“That pendant is a good luck charm, Amu,”_ her mother had said; _“Good fortune follows it. Prosperity is brought to those who hold it dear, you know. Your grandmother believed that honestly.”_

She could just picture herself back then, sat on the floor of their favoured drawing room, holding it up to the sunlight pouring in through the windows and watching it catch the beams just right.

_“Mama, there’s no such thing…”_

_“Well, I’m giving it to you now. Keep it with you and perhaps one day you can prove me wrong.”_

And then the rays of the sun were gone and replaced by the thick, dark clouds of the night outside and Amu wondered if this was enough to prove the Queen mistaken. It was hard to believe at that moment in time that she had been bestowed good luck or peace or any sort of fortune…

“Although…” she whispered, as she stared back over her shoulder and towards her balcony doors. Beyond she knew lay the cold, unforgiving blackness - the inexplicable fog that blotted out all light above. “Perhaps the stars have taken it with them.”

A knocking sounded at her door just then, making her jump, the necklace leaping out of her palm and back onto her chest. As she composed herself it sounded again. Only her father would be that persistent - a servant’s knock was light and cautious - and she was greeted by the grand sight of her parents at the door in all their finery. Her parents were splashes of life and colour against the white marble of the Palace. Her mother was an emerald, her father a sapphire in the richest, most expensive fabrics they could find and their ever-present company of royal guards stood stiff and straight behind them, their uniforms a sea of ruby. Her father beamed. He wasn’t looking at her face.

“Your mother chose well for you.” said the King and beside him, Midori, Amu’s mother, nodded, looking thoroughly proud of herself.

“You must hold yourself well in it, darling.” she said, stepping forward and brushing non-existent dust from her daughter’s shoulders. “Are you ready to go, dear?”

Amu opened her mouth only to be cut off by the snap of her mother’s fingers. Before she knew what was happening; the procession surrounding her parents began to move. The guards were lining the way back down the corridor, her parents were ushering her from her door; one of her mother’s servants slipped past her and fetched a travelling cloak from the armoire and helped slip it over her shoulders, expertly fastening the catch at the front, and then they were moving, barely giving Amu one last look at the bedroom she had grown up in.

“Amu,” her father’s voice had her back in the moment again. She looked up at his familiar face.

She had always thought of him as a gentle man. A just man. She had always gazed up at him with big, endearing eyes full of admiration and awe, always fascinated by the simple fact that her father - _her_ kind, caring father - was the man who so firmly ruled and guided the Kingdom of Seiyo through times both light and dark. But now, as she looked harder, she could see now that his jaw was stern and she could spot the harsh lines that cut across his forehead; she could so easily see now even in this dim light that oh-so-subtle icy gleam deep within his eyes that she had seen in every other world leader and dignitary who had walked through these halls on countless official visits over the years. He definitely had ruled through tough times as well as the peaceful. Only she realised now that to get through those times, he had taken certain steps.

She wasn’t sure she could look up at him with adoring eyes anymore. She tried to remain placid under his gaze.

“Are you ready to go, my dear?”

She wasn’t. But they weren’t about to listen to her anyway. She just pursed her lips and swallowed thickly as they led her down to the palace gates, glancing around at the servants and staff. They stared at her as if she were a dead man walking; a prisoner condemned to the gallows - to some dreadful end they could not foresee. She swept her gaze across the sky just then, as if hoping that by some magic force the clouds would all have been swept away and that the star-studded night she knew and loved would be spread twinkling above their heads.

But to no avail. The night was as cold and dark as she’d ever known it. Amu kissed her parents coldly and turned away, stepping into the carriage and looking for the last time back at the walls of the palace. The breeze grew icy, the gloom over the city more suffocating and soon Amu was off and on her way to the coast where she would bid farewell to her country for good.

Goodbye to her country, she thought. And to her sister and her future… And her fiancé…

And, all the while, she remained blissfully unaware of the figure in the shadows, blacker than black in sight of the gates. It slithered from the boundary of the palace walls and into the alleyway of a darkened street, chuckling lowly as it watched the carriage retreat. It’s voice - it oozed with malevolence as it released the great-winged bird, perched on its shoulder, into the sky and sneered;

_“Her Highness is heading your way, Captain…”_

~.~.~

The moonlight shone brightly off the calm waters, stretching out as far as the eye could see - until the stars were walking on water and the night melting into the sea. Far behind there shone the soft, gentle glow of candlelight, the windows of the rows of inns and taverns ablaze with orange warmth. The cobblestones were glowing like coals in a fire, the stars twinkling upon the sea… The sky was clear and the air fresh; the light surreal. It was tranquil. It was serene. It was the kind of peaceful scene that would hang in an art gallery - the gentle, lunar rays upon the quiet sea...

But it was, in fact, merely the calm before the storm.

A man was sauntering along the empty docks, his heavy footsteps disturbing the calm of the night, his hat low over his face. His coattails fluttered behind him, black and tattered like the wings of an enormous bird of prey. His breathing was loud, strained and raspy, his walk purposeful and his thoughts of dark intent.

He was to be feared. And many feared him.

Yes, he was pleased to be greeted by the sight of an empty waterfront tonight as he and his men made their appearance. He was pleased to be greeted by the sight of a sleepy town, its residents all tucked up in bed, unaware, unable to do anything as the shadow of the frigate crept across the cobblestones; their town lay bare and defenceless to the monster that prowled their borders. Helpless. Just the way he liked them.

The Captain stopped in his tracks as he met the eyes of his men. They hurried to work, averting their gazes quickly - as if their lives depended on it - shoulders hunched, stooped over various boxes and barrels of goods all strewn across the road whilst the crew scurried about like rats working to haul it up onto the deck of the ship. An entire store’s worth of nets, tarp, tack, powder, weapons, ammunition… Anything and everything they could get their hands on was being methodically passed from man to man and stowed away in the hold of the ship that towered above them, casting them into shadow, blocking out the cleansing rays of moonlight, shielding them as though it felt determined to keep their souls condemned to the darkness they lived in.

But, though their souls were so concealed and their ill-gotten goods so well hidden in shadow, the Captain paced and marched and stomped about the docks like a caged tiger, snapping and snarling at every man who so much as dared to step within three feet of him, going to-and-fro and barking orders. He cursed and he growled and he swore terrible oaths, glancing cautiously around every now and then at the distant glow of the town lanterns, his fingers subconsciously brushing the side of his pistol just in case he came to descry a figure ambling down the road or leaning out a window to overlook the scene, for if he was found around here… If he was found stealing around here… Well, they’d have his head for sure.

The law was too strict for his liking.

But, at the very least, there was nothing like the cover of darkness to go about dishonest deeds. Even stood beside the water’s edge, bathed as it was in the light of the moon, wasn’t enough to reveal their presence under the cover of their ship. It’s silhouette blacked out all in its wake. And what a ship it was! Even in such poor light the majesty of the vessel was still astounding, the Captain thought as he gazed up at its enormous body. She was _monumental!_ Beautifully shaped and her masts stood tall enough to touch the glittery night sky, sails fluttering lightly in the breeze to conceal a sizeable quarter of the moon. The water gently lapped against her hull, rippling and reflecting, casting intricate patterns up the length of her side. It was as if a gigantic spider had spun a magnificent web of light. Had there been any other ships docked at this berth tonight then this impressive frigate would have dwarfed them all; towered over their masts as well as their pride.

She was his pride and joy. And she was almost ready to make sail again… But for one little detail.

_“Quickly now!”_ the Captain sighed in exasperation as his crew carted and heaved and hoisted the last of their booty into the depths of the pirate ship. _“Come on!”_ he pressed; _“I don’t want to get side-tracked!”_

And, at just the sound of his voice, his entire band of gentlemen were gathered back on the dock, dusting off their calloused hands, stepping into line like obedient hounds before their master. Although, at last, his impatience was disappearing. He cast his eyes over them all, surveying them and their stooped, weather-worn forms with such disdain that they cowered further under his watch. Dogs would have been proud to serve their master. These men were more like beaten children, fearful and vulnerable.

The Captain tipped back his great hat and his eyes flashed in the light like the blade of a freshly-sharpened cutlass. His smirk was vindictive, colder than the chill of a winter night and, what was more, it reached his eyes - those eyes that looked as though they could turn an unlucky man to stone if he dared to gaze into them long enough. And, internally, the Captain laughed. He laughed and laughed and _laughed_ like a madman. A triumphant, crazed laugh because, after all, he was about to embark on the next, more promising leg of his lifelong journey - to fulfil his own destiny, so he thought. To finally seize what had been denied to him for so long…

No, they hadn’t really crept to the edge of this little town in the dead of night to plunder a poor man’s store. Nor to turn the town upside-down nor to rape and pillage. No, they weren’t here to do any of that, but their supplies were low as it was and, if everything went as planned tonight, they weren’t sure that they would be able to return to this town - or any other for that matter - for quite some time.

No, they were just killing two birds with one stone tonight.

The Captain, stood with his head held high above those of his crew, snapped his fingers. It echoed in the still night air, ringing in their ears. They got to work, the very picture of compliance. They knew their Captain. They knew his mood was subject to sudden change and they had faced both the fiery heat of his ire and the icy cold of his heart. If he had one, that was. They had undergone many beatings in their time. Beatings and starvation and whippings and keelhaulings… There were some of them even that had been subjected to desertion. But they didn’t talk about any of that, for any nerve - any _fear_ \- stood out to their Captain like a beacon in the night. And then it was as if that poor, unfortunate man had caught the plague, for none other would want to near him whilst their leader’s rage was directed at them lest they find themselves on the wrong end of his wrath also.

And so they filed through the streets at his unspoken command like they had planned; like rats infiltrating a sewer, splitting up and fanning out through every little alleyway and backstreet; every little path and track well-trodden, filtering through the coastal town so as not to draw attention as a crowd. They trekked and trudged up slopes and hills and clambered over hedgerows… And then the light of the town died away behind them and the ground beneath their feet levelled out. Cobblestones became grass and earth; stone walls became shrub and bush; and once more they were veiled under darkness, like spirits lurking in the shadows, lying in wait in the lush grass as predators hunt their prey.

As they gathered on the outskirts of town where the familiar sight of the sea lay far from view, dark clouds were beginning to drift lazily overhead. The light from the heavens above was dimmed, the moon slowly concealed. It was as if a fire had been lit - as if somewhere a great pyre burned bright and steady, choking out smoke, filling the sky. Still as malicious and merciless, still like a beam of light bouncing from a silver blade, the Captain’s eyes glinted as he watched them roll languidly overhead. Dark nights were suited to dark deeds, he thought.

And it didn’t matter how dark the deed was on that particular night, he told himself. He was determined. He had never felt the drive to act so strong, so deep-set inside him. His confidence had grown. He had prepared and planned and planned again for this day - for this night; for this opportunity; to take this chance with his own two hands. He had waited years for a chance such as this one. _Years_. Nearly ten of them.

Tonight he would take one step closer to fulfilling his goal - his dream, his _destiny_ , that aim for which he had left everything behind - for which he had altered his life, contorted his very character…

Pirates. He remembered the days when he despised them. He remembered the days when they were but the scum of the earth; the dirt beneath his shoes. He had never forgotten the eyes of the men he had watched hang in execution dock; men he had sent there. He remembered the way the pride swelled in his chest when he clapped them in their irons, saw them festering in their squalid cells or else cut down on the deck of the ship they had unlawfully commandeered for their own ill purposes… He recalled how that sick sense of triumph had gone to his head as he watched them swing and sun-dry and then swing again in rusty gibbets under the sun, under the eyes of the God they had forsaken.

Ten years ago, this Captain would never have dreamt of a day when piracy would become his life. But, somehow along the way, that old life of his hadn’t mattered. Nothing mattered. Nothing except pursuing what he desired most of all.

And, as the breeze rustled through the tall-growing grass and carried to them the far-off scent of sea salt, sighing, caressing their dirty cheeks with its cool, gentle hand, the Captain allowed himself a low, dark chuckle.

For ten years it had been brewing within him; tormenting him and driving him through those cloudy days and sleepless nights when he had felt so, so useless and frustrated and _enraged_ because everything had always seemed to be just too far out of his reach - constantly forever just on the horizon, slipping like sand between his fingers. It clawed at his heart, at his mind, at his every waking thought and it raged throughout his entire being like an inferno, overpowering his mind, tickling at his senses.

Yet now he could just taste his prize.

~.~.~

And, high above, far away from the docks and the busy city, tucked safely away from the public eye; a figure stood out against the dark blue of what appeared to be the night sky, yet, somehow, he was enclosed, wandering aimlessly about the grand space that stretched above his head, transfixed. It was as if the place was alive. It was calming, peaceful, mystical… Small white dots appeared to twinkle against the seemingly endless sea of blue, the room glowing faintly, as though it sat at the heart of some deep-seated energy radiating throughout the earth, neverending. The figure sighed and it was echoed back to him. Then he smiled; 

“The stars have begun to move…

“The Lock and Key drift from opposite ends of the heavens, though unaware, unprepared. They both seek something, but whatever they seek, it is not important - whether it be an object or an answer or a new way of life… It doesn’t matter because the stars are already set to sail along their proper course - along that winding, astral road set out amongst the sky that will see them meet their journey’s end... And they will both make journeys so great as to be worthy of their place amongst the constellations...

“ _Soon._ Soon they’ll come together and the adventures and encounters and the revelations they will face will shape them and change their outlook on this world, however they must be _patient!_ Everything will be revealed - all in good time…

“The Great Treasure glitters on the horizon. It waits to be revealed, but, all in good time... After all, the story has only just begun…”

~.~.~


	3. Three

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

It was all too still and silent. The rustling of the grass; the heavy breathing of the men; the scampering of rodents in the dirt; the cry of an owl overhead-

Yet all still too low, too hushed under the whispers and rantings of the Captain as he lay with his eyes fixed on the road ahead;

_“One step closer…”_

_“If I have her…”_

_“The heiress of Seiyo…”_

And then, there it was, that sound he had been waiting to hear all night - the clap of horse’s hooves and wheels on stone.

Ahead in the darkness, as the ornate carriage rolled into view, the Captain was certain he spotted pink.

“She’s _vital.”_

~.~.~

Amu’s golden eyes struggled to adjust in the darkness. It didn’t matter how long she had sat there that night already, nor that there burned bright and steady a swinging lantern just outside the carriage door. Her mind was distant; staring blankly off into the night as her thoughts drifted further and further away from the present, like smoke drifting through her fingers as she struggled to keep a hold of them.

She had made this journey many times. She had ridden this road perhaps hundreds of times in her past, but never like this. Never in the dead of night. Always she was bathed in the light of the sun with her parents by her side, or Ami or Rima, or, occasionally, with Tadase. Tadase whose smile was like the first light of spring. Tadase whose touch was firm, yet gentle. Tadase whose chivalrous love and affection could make her heart swoon.

Tadase who had only last summer been granted her hand… And who now would have to watch, standing idly by as she set sail into the arms of some faceless monarch whom she’d never known. Whom she’d never adore like she adored Tadase. Oh Lord, her heart was aching. Her chest was tight at the thought of that man she’d planned to marry; whom she’d planned to join hands with and sit beside on the royal throne once her father’s reign was over.

But still, if this was to be her last night in his company, Amu would make the very best she could of it. She would sit not on the throne with him, but she would enjoy his presence that night. She would enjoy his entertainment; she’d enjoy his jokes and the sound of his laughter; she’d admire the way his ruby eyes gleamed in the candlelight and the way his fair hair fell across his face. She always thought it was as if he had stepped out of a fairy-tale, for Amu had never met anyone so bold, yet kind and caring before; never met any man who could spend the majority of his time at sea and still return from a voyage as fresh-faced and lively as when he’d left. It was as if the fatigue and gloom that washed over those other men in his fleet, as if that relentless assault of salt and spray wouldn’t dare touch him. He was seemingly immune, unable to give in to that restless spirit of the sea that took its toll over all who sailed on it.

Admirable. Courageous. Dream-like. Fit for Kingship and as steadfast as a knight in shining armour... For all of her words, Amu couldn’t do Commander Hotori justice.

Her heart was thrumming steadily in her chest, her breath catching and her skin prickling.

But she wasn’t sure that it was the thought of her beloved that warranted such a reaction. Amu was all of a sudden snapped back into the present. She frowned, peering out of the window, a chill running down the length of her back. She blinked, eyes straining, trying to make out something amidst the dark. For one brief, fleeting moment she thought she saw something shift in the shadows. Something slight and subtle, yet unmistakable. Something dark as the night; big and black and brooding. For a second she had been overcome by the cold - as if a thin frost had begun to creep and crawl its way into her carriage, its icy fingers gripping at the hem of her dress, scratching at the back of her neck, numbing her cheeks…

But there was nothing.

Nothing except for the faint outline of the swaying grass and the eerie little pool of light that bounced and shuddered across the ground as the vehicle rolled on towards the town. She could see it now through the other window - faint little lights glowing in the distance, growing nearer and nearer as she inched closer to her destination.

But then;

_BANG!_

The crack of a gunshot rent the night.

Amu leapt in her seat, a hand placed above her frantically-beating heart, suddenly claustrophobic.

Everything that followed happened faster than she could react. She jumped away from the window, gasping, clawing for breath as the carriage jerked violently onto the side of the road. They were racing now, it seemed, tearing down the slopes and towards the town faster than she could believe. She was being thrown about and shuddered every which way in her seat as the horses whinnied frantically and the driver cried out something she couldn’t hear-

_BANG!_

Another ear-splitting shot. And then two more as the poor beasts at the front of the vehicle made their last, desperate attempt to break free. And then the shaking stopped abruptly and the carriage halted, half-slumped off the edge of the road, leaning into a shallow ditch.

The silence was all-consuming.

Amu’s breathing sounded too loud in her ears. It sounded harsh and piercing in the still air; sounded as though it would belie her every movement as she slunk back into her seat, unable to form coherent thought. Suddenly frozen in fear, her mind flashed back to that shadow in the dark… She slid away from the window, fearful, trembling.

Something in the corner of her eye seemed to move across the opposite window. She shook her head frantically. Her mind, it must have been playing tricks on her. The lantern on the side of the carriage had fallen off and lay broken on its side in the road, surrounded by shards of glass and the dying, flickering flame inside reduced to nothing more than a glowing ember. Outside, the shadows had stilled again. It was deathly quiet - the kind of quiet that torments you as it stretches further and further on; seems to swallow everything whole and envelops you in that petrifying state of fear, for how can you know what lurks within the still silence? How can you be prepared when all around is so unforgivingly calm? How can you defend yourself against whatever it is that prowls beyond sight or hearing, ready to spring out unexpectedly to tear you to shreds...

Hear heart racing, chest screaming, Amu closed her eyes and breathed. She tried to breathe quietly, steadily, calmly… She uneasily reached for the door handle, trying to ignore the pounding of blood in her ears. Her fingers found the cool metal, shakily brushing across it’s surface.

And then that darkened presence swept across the window again. Someone was nearing her now. She heard the soft crunch of fine earth beneath boots; heard the crunching of glass beneath their feet. Amu heard the click of the latch as the handle lowered, the door swinging open - the figure leaned in, wrapping its fingers around her arm and roughly dragged her bodily from the inside of the carriage.

Amu yelped, losing her footing and stumbling down into the dust. That grip still held like a vice on her forearm, another coming up behind her shoulder. She tried to scamper away, to crawl out of reach and run for dear life, but it was too late for her. It was too late to run or to hide. Too late and too far from that little coastal town in the distance to call for help.

Fearful, but indignant, Amu tried to face her attacker.

_“W-What do you think you’re-!”_

One great, dirty hand clamped over her mouth, drowning out the shrill cry of her voice. She was being pressed up into their chest, her arms pinned to her side. Around her she could make out more of them - an entire crowd of undefined figures rising from the grass like smoke from a flame; like spirits from the grave. But they were jeering, mumbling words and phrases she couldn’t hear as she squirmed and spluttered and struggled with all her might in her captor’s grasp.

Faintly, in the corner of her eye, she caught one of them coming closer. She was thrown around, twisted in this devil’s grip and, before Amu had any time to run or scream or demand to know what was going on, a haze set in.

There was no time for her to do anything more as her world began to spin, her vision blurring into a dark and dreaded nothingness. Her head was throbbing, blood trickling down the back of her neck. She wasn’t aware of the pistol until she saw it drop to the ground beside her, nor that she was surrounded now, encircled by the Captain’s crew as they closed in as lions to the kill.

Her fall into the abyss was as swift as the onset of night, and Amu was soon withdrawn from the world.

~.~.~

When she next awoke, her world was clouded and murky.

Her eyes wouldn’t focus; her breathing was shallow. Amu felt as though someone was holding her down beneath a pool of water; her thoughts swimming and unclear. Her memory was riddled with gaps and blank spaces, but it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t have been able to focus on them if she’d tried. They were flying in and out of her brain; twisting and spinning and shifting in her confused state of deliria, escaping her focus and dissipating into nothingness.

Slowly, she was becoming aware of her body. Oh, how it ached. Her limbs were heavy, her head throbbing. Amu heard herself moan, felt her cheeks scratch against rough sheets and her hair tickle her face. She noted in the back of her jumbled mind, dumbly, that it must have come undone. She must also, she noticed even more slowly, have been in bed, but it was just… Well, everything about it was _off_. These itchy sheets weren’t hers; these saggy pillows weren’t hers; this bed was too hard and cold and smelled like salt and dust.

She wasn’t supposed to be here.

Amu frowned and gradually she felt that, one by one, each thought became clearer; felt that every memory suddenly shone with a new sense of clarity. The gaps were shortening, those blank spaces filling...

And then the chilling sound of a gunshot rang through her head.

The shots. The rustle of grass. The shattering of glass and the smell of smoke and gunpowder; the lights in the distance out of reach, unable to save her, unable to hear her struggle.

Amu’s blood ran cold.

_‘I’ve been kidnapped.’_

And everything became as clear as day. Amu’s eyes snapped open, wide and frantic, and she shot bolt upright in bed, ignoring the sudden bout of dizziness. She steadied herself against the headboard, gripping onto it for dear life until her knuckles turned white and her fingers numb. There was a horrible sinking sensation in her chest. Her heart was racing beyond belief; her mind reeling as she dug her nails into the side of the bed as if clinging to any hope she had left that this was just some bad dream or wild hallucination.

_‘Where am I?’_

Amu found herself in a tiny wood-panelled room that smelled again like salt and something stale. A small porthole window above her let in a small amount of sunlight. It landed on the opposite wall - on a single door with a hefty iron handle. Her heart leapt in her mouth. A way out. Her heart leapt in her mouth. It was probably locked tight, she told herself with any rationality she had left, but she didn’t care. Clumsily, Amu made her first attempt to get out of bed. Just raising her body and taking a step forward was like having to fight her way through a crowd.

But then, as her vision began to clear and the world became more than a mere fog of shadow and colour, Amu spotted him.

In the corner of the room beside the door sat a man on a rickety old chair that looked too small for him. His arms folded and his long legs crossed, lazily sprawled out before him, and his hair a mess of midnight blue. Slowly, he looked up, blinking as though he had just been called back to earth - as though his mind had been busy someplace far-off instead of in this tiny, claustrophobic room between her and the door that she hoped led to freedom. He could not have been much older than her, she thought as his eyes met hers and Amu stilled, heart still pounding.

“Calm down,” said a deep voice that had her hairs standing up on end and a shiver running down her spine. “Calm down, Your Highness. You’re unharmed.”

There was a pause and Amu’s gaze remained transfixed on the man opposite her, hunched over on that flimsy chair. Something was amiss - she noticed immediately. It was in the dull tone of his voice; the tension in his shoulders; it was in the way his hands bunched up in the sleeves of his shirt. And, that was another thing, she thought. It looked much too loose on him, much too baggy for someone so lean. He looked pale and jaded and somehow Amu just couldn’t quite place him amongst those hard, stocky shadows that had snatched her up on the road the night before… Or, at least, she thought it must have been. In truth, she had no idea how long she’d been confined to this little room. It could have been one day or it could have been one hundred. She couldn’t tell.

Meanwhile, the man with the blue hair and distant look dragged himself to his feet as if it took all the effort he could muster and looked her in the eye. Amu’s breath hitched for one brief second, for they were the colour of deepest, darkest cobalt and quite unlike anything she had seen before.

“My apologies, Your Highness,” he began, his tone flat, yet, somewhere, Amu thought she could detect just a hint of remorse. (Which, she thought, didn’t make any sense to her, yet she could not find the words to dispute it.) His eyes fell to the floor as he rose. “But, I’m told it is best to keep a watchful eye on our captives,” and he nodded towards the heavy door; “lest they try to escape.”

The word ‘captive’ struck a chord.

“Let me go.”

It was not the first thing she had wanted to say, but it was the first thing that left her lips. Amu locked eyes with the man before her and whispered, firmer now; “Let me go.”

But the man remained as silent as the grave and it was like a piercing wound to her chest.

“Where am I?” she asked firmly, changing her tone in the hope that it would sway him into speech. She switched to her ‘royalty persona’ - that stern, resolute outer façade that she had mastered in her pursuit of the throne - and she hoped to God that the false confidence in her voice would mask her nerves. “ _Where_ have you brought me? Tell me where I am!”

The man raised an eyebrow, apparently bemused by the change in attitude. He leaned against the doorframe. He would have seemed casual if not for those subtle hints in his body language that belied some inner battle. His boots clunked dully on the dusty floorboards.

“You are aboard the Shining Black,” he answered surprisingly cooly; “I’m sure you’ve heard of us.”

Amu froze. Her jaw dropped before she could stop it from happening, her blood running colder than she had ever known before.

_The_ Shining Black.

Of course she had heard of them. It was like remembering a dream from long ago - something from a distant past that had long slipped beyond recall. The name of the Shining Black had long been sleeping at the back of her mind - at the back of everyone’s mind - but it had never had reason to rise to the surface; to breach the waters of the sea on which it sailed and reaffirm its presence in their midst. It had lain there, dormant, sleeping as a beast beneath the waves just waiting for its chance to resurface. It was almost hard to believe that it wasn’t just a myth.

Nobody knew who sailed her. Nobody knew who Captained her. No one knew what it was that any of those aboard such a vessel even wanted; all anyone knew was that, around a decade ago, a ship with no name on her transom had docked in a little town to the east and overnight people and supplies had started to go missing - vanishing without a trace, as though they had been picked clean off the very face of the earth. None had returned - none even beaten or bruised, tormented or terrified… They simply… _Went_. They would go missing in the dead of night as buildings burned in the background, reduced to ash, and buccaneers ran rampant in the dead of night. Wherever they went chaos followed. Homes were ransacked and stores were pillaged, inns were torched and all the while their manic laughter echoed throughout the streets. They shattered glass and split open crates; robbed and looted, without hesitance, unfaltering as they cut down those in their path.

But that was all they’d ever take. Their thieving never went beyond supplies. Every home, every mansion, every hall or mansion or archive they ever entered was left scoured and ravaged… But little, if anything was ever taken. Gold still gleamed in people’s cabinets and jewels lay safe in jewellery boxes. And no one had a clue why. Rumours and whispers and hushed murmurs behind closed doors had always flown wild and free; speculations and guesses as to what business these corsairs may have, but none had ever truly known and none had ever dared to interfere.

And then it had ended as simply as that. The last Amu had heard of this mysterious ship was no less than three years ago, when she had been just seventeen. All she’d heard was that the ship had been sighted, that it had been seen leaving national waters, disappearing into the mist like an apparition of the sea… And that it had a name: the Shining Black. And it was a name that still made her shiver in both fear and awe. Every now and then someone would cry wolf - would say that they had seen the ship about the little coastal towns, but there had been no raids, no more break-ins and no more kidnappings and Amu had almost forgotten about them in their period of quiet.

But now, if this man - this _pirate_ , she supposed - was to be trusted, then she was stood aboard it right now. Amu couldn’t tell whether she was petrified or fascinated. Back in the present, the pirate before the Princess seemed to understand what was running through her head. As it was, she felt vulnerable under his gaze. He knew so much more than her - about this ship and about her fate.

“Welcome, Miss Hinamori,” he said. “Thanks to the work of my dearest father, you now have the pleasure of accompanying us at sea.”

His words had piqued her curiosity. She leaned forward, eyes wide, for she was truly unable to imagine what sort of a man might captain this famous ship.

“Your father?” she repeated slowly. “W-Who is your father?”

She caught the way his jaw clenched, the flex of facial his muscles and the bitterness that dripped in his tone as he folded his arms again and said simply; “My father is the Captain of this ship.”

He averted his eyes and Amu frowned in thought. His expression, like so much else about him, didn’t sit right with her; just didn’t seem to _fit_. She barely noticed her arms coming out in goosebumps as it suddenly hit her that she would be meeting this man - the man who held such authority over the notorious Shining Black. Anxiety and uneasiness began to settle in the pit of her stomach, weighing her down with all sorts of nerves that wouldn’t be lifted until this whole, inevitable meeting was over and done with. She realised then that she truly _didn’t_ want to come face to face with the Shining Black’s Captain. What kind of cruel, callous man would be prove to be? What nefarious reason had he to snatch her up out of the blue and imprison her here on his vessel where she could not escape? But, of course, she would have to if she ever wanted to understand.

Amu, briefly glancing up at the pirate, for a moment considered asking him. She considered putting on that royal face and backing him into a corner and forcing him somehow to spill all his secrets, but he was already pushing himself from the doorframe, producing a set of keys from his pocket and unlocking the door. He glanced back at her and said in a stern tone she didn’t like;

“You may stay here until the Captain wishes to speak with you. Until then, you remain-”

_“No.”_

Amu stood from her position on the bed and faced the pirate with a newfound determination in her golden eyes. Inside, she was screaming in protest. She would not be locked up in here until this pirate Captain decided he wanted to see her. She would not be left lying in wait by some criminal who had been too cowardly, it seemed, to show his face for the last ten years; who had spent his time hiding from society; hiding from his punishment. She was Princess Amu Hinamori, heir to the empire of Seiyo (she hoped still), and she would _not_ back down! How would she ever have hoped to take control of her nation if she had been so compliant as to let this... this _outlaw_ give her orders as though he deserved her obedience? As though it was her place to fall in line and stay out of sight until such time as she was worthy of his Captain’s acknowledgement? Had she not been at his mercy (although, not that she would give him the satisfaction), she would have had him hung!

The pirate, one foot already over the threshold, stopped in his tracks and turned back to face her with an intrigued expression quite unlike anything she’d ever seen. To see him so visibly taken aback was oddly satisfying, a small triumph as she marched forwards, making sure to keep her posture perfect just as her mother had been instructing her to do since before she could even remember.

“I shall not wait until your Captain wishes to see me! I believe it should be _me_ who demands to see _him_! ” she snapped, indignant. “If this was your Captain’s idea, then I should speak to him - I should know what possessed him to bring me here! Or else, I at least ask to see this ship! If I’m going to be aboard for some time like you say, then I should I wish to know where I’m being imprisoned!”

Needless to say, the silence that followed Amu’s demands was both deafening and awkward. She stood, breathing heavily, studying the man’s face for any sign of argument, but he said nothing. The silence stretched further and Amu hoped beyond hope that he might be considering taking her requests seriously, for she couldn’t stand to sit idle on her bed any longer! Anxious and afraid and faced with the prospect of imprisonment yet again with no hints nor clues as to why - nor any company! - isolated in that boxy cabin… Well, it was too much.

The pirate was still staring at her and the door was left ajar and something in Amu snapped.

She launched herself towards it, quick as a flash, her legs much steadier and her mind much clearer than when she had made her first attempt to stand, racing towards the open door. She didn’t care that she was out to sea. She didn’t care that there would be no means of escape beyond this infernal vessel. All she knew was that spending her day in that room would push her to madness. And so she dashed for it, loose curls flying over rosy cheeks and yelling;

_“Let me out!”_

But it was to no avail. The pirate was much faster than her and much stronger than her. With reflexes that could only make her gape in wonder, he had her by the shoulders, using his own body as a barrier as she struggled and writhed in his grasp.

_“Unhand me!”_ she cried. _“You can’t leave me in here!”_

“Calm down,” he pressed, his voice unsuitably cool and steady for the situation. “It won’t do you any good,”

Her voice was cracking, her eyes blurring until eventually she slumped in his grip, forlorn and pitiful, and it was only then that she truly noticed how much taller than her he was. It was something that made her want to shrink away into his shadow and crawl back over to the bed she had woken up in and in that moment Amu remembered truly what sort of peril she was in. It didn’t matter that this man didn’t look like those brutes who had halted her carriage. He was her captor. She didn’t know what to feel or what to say. She didn’t know how to react. She wanted to scream at him, to summon up that crazed energy that had fuelled her sudden bid for freedom not even a minute ago, but she was spent. She couldn’t find the words. They caught in her throat and fell silent on her tongue, dying on her lips.

The pirate chuckled, a deep rumble within his chest, his breath cool on her face.

“You’re strong for a Princess, Your Highness.”

Defiant, but without the energy to properly fuel it, Amu half-heartedly swung a fist at his cheek. He caught it easily, practically miles from its target, and then he chuckled again. Amu chanced a look into his eyes. They were alight with a mischievous gleam and in them was captured countless, vivid hues of blue. There in those eyes she saw a galaxy - an indigo abyss flecked with topaz and sapphire and aquamarine that put her in mind of those night skies she craved to see yet again. They were brilliant as those stars that first appear against the evening sky, twinkling as the night grows darker and the stars lighter and more dazzling. They were… _‘Mesmerising’_ was the first word that came to mind as she stared, her seriousness faltering as she found herself pulled into the deep, _deep_ realm of those fantastic irises...

“You know, Princess,” he began, his voice a low purr, dripping with amusement, that eventually drew her out of her reverie. He was still holding her fist in one strong hand, his skin calloused and rough over her own. His lips twitched into what might have been the beginnings of a cheeky smirk, but he bit it back. “I was going to say _‘yes’_.”

Amu blinked, startled, as the man let her go and stepped aside, shoving the door fully open. “You can see the deck of the ship for now,” he said, burying his keys in his pocket again; “but I don’t think that the Captain will approve if I bring you to him early. I warn you now, he doesn’t like to be disturbed.”

Amu could have grinned in triumph, but she contained herself. Instead, she merely nodded in what she hoped was a dignified fashion and straightened up, tucking her messy, loose curls behind her ears and stepping out into what appeared to be a short corridor. The young man followed her, locking the door behind them and walked past her to lead the way.

“Stay close to me.” he said simply. Amu didn’t dare argue. She was led down a narrow passageway; dimly lit with a few candles that cast dark shadows on the walls as they walked past, the tapping and clunking of their footsteps echoing in the small space; an effect that, for the second time that day, made the hairs on Amu's arms stand upright.

Making her way through the somewhat eerie passage, Amu made notice of five other doors leading into other rooms, or cabins considering that they were on board a ship. The biggest was the one they were currently heading toward at the end of the passage, leading out to the deck. Its thick, textured windows filtered through a faint, distorted stream of daylight that broke through the uneven surface of the glass, creating a peculiar pattern on the floorboards which Amu tentatively reached out to with the tip of her shoe. Smiling faintly at the swirly outlines against the pale leather, she failed to see her company glance back and chuckle at her childish behaviour.

Other than this, there were four other doors which must have led to other cabins (strange, she thought; any regular ship of this kind would have only had one, large cabin above deck), but it was the one at the very far end that had caught her attention. She took one glance at it and almost shivered. The grooves in the wooden surface were black with age-old dirt and hanging off of chunky, iron handles was a large, rusted padlock that swung from blackened chains. She'd decided to ignore the uneasy feeling that had started to build in her gut and carried on.

They were stood at the end of the way now and Amu held her breath. There lay but a single door between her and the deck of the ship - the Shining Black! The one and only! The ship that had struck fear into the souls of so many, that had terrorised so many, perplexed so many…

And it and all its secrets lay just beyond those doors before her.

The pirate, his thin face glowing in the pattern of light, grabbed the handles and roughly opened it. Amu was momentarily blinded as the light flooded in, holding a dainty hand up to her face in an attempt to try and block it out.

And then the glare lessened and the breeze swept across her cheeks and Amu’s eyes widened in amazement.

"I suppose I should welcome you, Princess." The pirate said. "Welcome to the Shining Black."

~.~.~


	4. Four

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

So strange and alien was this world, it seemed, that for a moment Amu could hardly believe her eyes.

There were so many of them. So very many countless numbers of men rushing around on the deck of the Shining Black; scrubbing and cleaning, rolling barrels, climbing about the ropes that wound every which way overhead, like creepers and vines twisting about the gargantuan structure, swaying and drooping dangerously low as the crew clambered about them with all the agility and daring of only the bravest acrobats Amu had ever seen. Some were marching, giving orders, or else jumping down into the hold into the depths of the ship through an opening in the floorboards that gaped wide, an empty cavernous void stretching out beneath their feet. They were yelling too - hollering and shouting and guffawing and singing so very loudly that it was near impossible to hear a word anyone was saying unless you were close enough. It fell as background noise on Amu’s ears, nothing but a messed up jumble of words and phrases that were completely unintelligible. There was even one loud-mouthed pirate who was shouting abuse at a green parrot flapping around his head.

Amu looked on, amused, yet befuddled. Back home there had spread stories of ruthless, cutthroat corsairs with such an insatiable bloodlust that it could only be quenched by the blood of the innocent - by the taste of ash on their tongue as their victims burned; by the salt of the sea and the bitter tang of iron. They prowled the streets by night with their cutlasses and guns at their side, trigger-fingers itching, ready to take out those good-hearted folk who came across their path. Rough as the rocks of the cliffs; tough as steel; their dispositions frighteningly ruthless…

But, although observing them from afar, Amu found herself astonished.

This crew was loud and brash and hard-working, she was sure, but these men were tired. They were, for the most part, too weary, too thin and too ashen to match the picture other people had painted for them. They sauntered around the desk, dragging their heavy bodies, faces contorted with effort. Beneath the clamour and chatter there was moaning and grumbling as they pushed on, overworked and sleep deprived, and Amu wasn’t certain whether she should pity or admire them. They were exhausted, filthy and dressed in torn, dirty clothes. And yet they still worked. They still toiled and hauled and scrubbed and sang... As she was led down the steps from the quarterdeck, Amu couldn’t help but wonder.

Were these willing, bloodthirsty pirates or were they slaves?

“These men,” she began, mostly to herself; “do not look like pirates.”

Her guide had heard her over the noise. He watched her, his expression unreadable. “We kept her moving throughout the night.” he explained. “We’re not often required to be on duty so many hours at a time.”

“I see…”

Amu’s gaze turned upward to the clear sky and the warm sun and, for a moment, she felt horribly exposed. There was nothing. Nothing but the emptiness of sky and sea. She grew yet again dejected as she realised, quite fully now, just how far from land they must have been and suddenly she felt like she was stood on her balcony at the palace again - alone on an isle amidst that gloomy city. She was trapped and isolated and uncomfortably out of her depth. It was as if she was sinking into those very waters about them. As if she were drowning, falling helplessly into the tide. In a futile effort to spot anything nearby by that might have resembled her home country, she focused on the horizon, desperately hoping beyond hope to catch sight of something - _anything!_ But all she saw was the sun and the swell of the waves and, in the end, her concentration was abruptly shattered as no less than _three_ ruffians barged past her, shoving her sideways and into the bulwark as they rolled several barrels down into the hold. Amu huffed. Was she invisible to these men? There she was in the middle of the deck, a young woman in a golden gown whilst they scurried about like rodents in dull, dirty rags, unkempt and uncaring. She was like a light in the darkness and yet they paid her no heed.

Ahead, the young man accompanying her stepped forwards into the chaos and Amu followed suit, scampering away from the other pirates as they spat curses at her, growling as she got in their way. She huffed, disgruntled, and brushed them off, deciding it best to ignore them rather than waste her precious time putting them in their lowly place. She stayed close to the blue-haired pirate, nervously tilting her head back to stare up at the billowing sails above. She couldn’t even begin to count how many of them there were. They clung to the three masts, reaching out to the bowsprit, casting shadows across the hot deck. They were strange and quite unlike anything she’d ever seen before. She recalled those sails that she had seen on Tadase’s ships - brightest white, crisp and clean and pure in the sun - but these had seen such wear and tear that, for the most part, they were stained black with grease or grime or maybe soot - she could not tell. It was as if a painter had taken them for an empty canvas and hurriedly ran a blackened brush across the surface, leaving nothing behind save for messy edges which still shone cream in the sun. They were old and worn and they were riddled with distortions from age-old repairs… Old, worn and tattered in places, yes, but still truly a remarkable sight as they swelled and sighed in the salty breeze.

And then, high up above the deck and the ropes and the soiled sails there flew a single flag. Black as the night; a white diamond so cleanly stitched in its centre with not a smudge nor splatter of dirt to spoil it. Amu recognised it. Amu remembered it. Amu had feared it, that symbol of those unspeakable foes that had haunted their shores, and in that moment she felt herself shrinking beneath it, vulnerable and afraid.

“H-How far are we from land?”

“Too far to swim back, if that’s what you’re thinking.” the man replied. “The wind seems to have been in our favour.” The two of them stopped in the middle of the deck as several men hurried past, wielding pieces of rope and tarp. “You’ve been asleep for most of the morning.” the pirate added, almost as an afterthought, and Amu fell silent, quickly feeling too disheartened to say anything more. It was eating away at her, making her insides ache as they stopped and observed the crew at work.

And then, without warning, there was a sigh of the breeze, the slam of a door and the boards of the deck shuddered violently beneath her feet. The clamour died as a candle in the wind - snuffed out and silent before she could blink. The crew had stopped in their tracks, unnervingly silent, already pale faces whitening. Beside her, the pirate stiffened.

**_“IKUTO!”_ **

A deep voice bellowed behind them, cold and harsh, and Amu leapt out of her skin, clutching at her chest, whirling round. “ _Ikuto_ , you face me when I talk to you!”

Slowly, Amu saw him turn.

_‘Ikuto..? His name is Ikuto?’_

She watched him straighten up and followed his gaze. Stood just metres away was a man dressed in black. All black. It was as though he had shrouded himself in shadow - in a coat cut from the fabric of that starless night she had watched roll over the palace. His face like thunder, the sound of his voice like hail, he took several steps towards them and she felt the planks quake at the mercy of his boots. It was as if the very ship itself was shaken when he moved aboard it. It was as if the waves became uneasy, stricken with trepidation, and they rocked the massive body of the frigate as if on stormy tides.

Amu saw it then - the white diamond stitched onto the man’s hat - and she knew that the Captain had come.

“And so…” he began, his tone so hard, yet so casual. His steely eyes were fixed on her, boring into her, making her insides tremble. “She awakes.”

A silent lull. A waft of sea salt as a new wave broke against the side of the Shining Black. The Captain’s gaze was predatory as his eyes swept over her. Then he frowned and the sternness of his expression was so coarse and terrifying that Amu could have sworn she saw steam leave his ears.

_“Ikuto.”_ he growled; _“Why_ is our _guest_ out on deck?”

A pause came before Ikuto’s answer as he desperately searched for an excuse. Worry flickered across his features for a split second before he returned to his usual, neutral expression. “She requested to see the ship.” he said eventually. “I feel that if Her Highness-”

The Captain took one thunderous step forward, his boots smacking against the deck and Ikuto fell silent.

“What did you think you were _DOING, Ikuto?”_

The crew, plus Ikuto flinched in unison. Their Captain was red in the face, his jowls quivering. It took some seconds for this dreadful man to calm down, but when he had apparently soothed the flames of his wrath, he stepped back. His voice was steady, but his words still contained a venom that made Amu want to back away and hide in one of the barrels she’d seen being carted below deck earlier.

“Ikuto, bring her to my cabin.” The Captain commanded. _“Now.”_

Ikuto nodded obediently, a tension still set in his jaw. He motioned for Amu to follow and, never having felt more hesitant in her entire life, she took her first timid steps back across the deck. The crew's eyes followed her as she clambered back up the steps and to the quarterdeck, subconsciously slowing her pace as she edged closer and closer to her doom. Some of them she thought looked sympathetic. As she approached the doors that led back into the narrow corridor, the explosive Captain turned back and faced his crew.

_“BACK TO WORK!”_

In an instant, everything was full of life and sound again. It was as if a spell had been broken as the Captain vanished into the gloom of the passageway and led the way towards that ominous, padlocked door that had given Amu such a sense of dread. What on earth did this man want her in his cabin for? What was it that he had wanted so desperately so as to kidnap her? How long would she be forced to stand in that room alone with him - helpless and terrified?

There was no time for her to try and escape. The Captain threw open the doors to his quarters with such a force that it swung back into the room and crashed against the walls with a deafening _BANG!_ and a sprinkle of dust from the ceiling. Amu jumped, her entire body screaming in protest as she was forced to cross the threshold and step into the dingy cabin. It was as if she were struggling against some unseen force - as if there was something trying oh so desperately to pull her back, away from the danger that lay ahead. She hadn’t even noticed how close she had stayed Ikuto’s side. Faintly, she thought she felt a gentle touch against the small of her back, urging her on, comforting her.

But then she was being marched into the room and the door was closing behind them and she felt the anxiety swell in her stomach as she watched the Captain storm ahead. She swallowed thickly. As if being kept hostage aboard the Shining Black wasn’t frightening enough for her - wasn’t enough to chill her to the very core - being kept stranded on the high seas with a Captain of such aggression, such hostility, of such an unpredictable temperament… It was more than enough for the Princess.

He was pacing now, wandering over to the desk in the middle of the room. He sat at its chair and Amu grimaced at the thought that he was comfortably sitting in such age old filth. Grime and dust was everywhere she looked. It hung in the air and stuck to the walls. It seemed to saturate every surface, making Amu feel itchy and uncomfortable. It was truly a shame, for this had to have been the biggest cabin on the entire ship, yet it was barely furnished and so barely cared for. She saw impressive windows on every wall made up of many different pieces of textured, diamond-shaped glass, looking out onto the open ocean and left slightly ajar to allow in the smell of the sea; but the light was choked out by a layer of dust and above them hung torn, moth-eaten curtains that hung limp and sad in the breeze. Beneath her feet, there lay sprawled out a tattered rug that might once have been lavishly ornate, but it was now pocked with burn marks and wax spills and all manner of other things Amu did not wish to contemplate. The furniture too was of surprisingly remarkable quality. There was a fine double bed with four posters, almost as big as her own had been at the palace, and of solid oak engraved with the most intricate, detailed carvings that she was sadly too far away to properly examine… But she felt despondent at the sight of years worth of grime on its surface, blocking out the patterns weaved into its wood. It was _everywhere_. It encrusted the bed, the desk, the table and chairs, heavy trunks and bookcases; spiders webs dangled from stacks of scrolls and broken leather spines; parchment and quills were strewn carelessly across the desk beside melted candles and empty ink pots.

It was a sad and sorry sight to Amu’s eyes. Before her, the Captain relaxed in his seat, at ease, but his eyes never left her. He never once allowed his gaze to shift, his eyes burning into her as she stood, fiddling with the stomacher of her bodice, trying to appear calm when in reality she was anything but. She wanted to turn tail and run. She wanted to scream and shout; do _anything_ to express the irrepressible fear that set in whenever the Captain so much as glanced at her. Behind her, Ikuto stood by the doors with his hands in his pockets, facing the floor as though he just wanted to vanish into the background and cease to exist.

Amu breathed deeply and opened her mouth to speak with every intention of trying to remain cool and collected before the Captain.

“W-Why- Why am I here?”

Her stammer betrayed her. That quiver in her voice rang much louder in the silence than she had hoped. She flushed. She would scold herself later once she was able to think more clearly. At his desk, the Captain kept his gaze on her for a few more horribly uneasy seconds before speaking.

“You are here,” he began lowly; “because I request it.” He said simply and his tone was so official and matter-of-fact that Amu felt more as though she were sat in a lecture than held hostage by this group of rugged outlaws. “You are here because I have personally chosen to _welcome_ you aboard our fine vessel. So, _Princess_ , as you have been graced with such an offer, I must take some time to explain that there are certain rules I plan to enforce,”

Amu resisted to urge to heave a hefty sigh. She had been so extremely hopeful that maybe - just _maybe_ \- she might be granted with some explanation during this meeting. But, no, she realised as the Captain cleared his throat and tipped back his hat. Amu didn’t have the strength in her to argue.

“Until you are given a fixed position, Your Highness, you shall remain in your cabin until further notice and not have any contact with other members of my crew unless I allow it, understood?” She nodded meekly. “You shall learn to hold your tongue. I shall not have you speaking out of turn - whether before me or any of my crew. You shall not make demands…”

Again, Amu nodded, all the while feeling like she was drowning in the depths that chugged along beneath them. “Of course,” she whispered. But, now that she was allowed to speak, she decided that it was at least worth her time to test the waters - just _once_. She swallowed, her mouth dry, and hoped that it was not something she would come to regret. “Do you mind me asking how long I am to be on your ship?”

The Captain leaned forwards, shoving away a scroll just within his reach. “For the Shining Black, secrecy is a necessity.” he said gravely. “Our lives, our well-being on this ship depends on our ability to stay as a ghost on the waters, just far enough from reach… My, dear Miss Hinamori, it was already unfortunate enough that we had to invite you here. Your father’s entire naval force will be out here in no small matter of time to search for you once he realises you are missing. You understand, I presume, how risky it would be for us to let you go free.” He paused and rose from his seat, his hands placed firmly on his desk. He was hunched low like a tiger ready to spring.

“Get used to this ship, Princess.” he drawled. “Who knows how long you’ll be here.”

And, just like that, whatever had been left of Amu’s world broke as a wave on the shore. The dizziness was creeping back over her head; the blood in her veins surging. She grit her teeth and tried to hold it back; tried to ground herself to the present whilst her head spun and her breath grew shallow. The knowledge that this man would so deliberately choose to withhold whatever reasoning he had from her made her frustration flare, yet there was not a thing she could do about it. Not one thing. She was utterly powerless. He could not have kidnapped the Hinamori family’s daughter - _the Royal Family’s daughter_ \- without reason. He would have been a madman to contemplate it. He would had to have been utterly overcome by lunacy!

And yet, Amu sighed and looked down at the faded rug and breathed; “Yes…”

“Yes, that gladdens me,” the Captain said, though his tone betrayed him; “Your life here will be much easier if you simply obey these rules I set for you. After all…” There was a clicking sound as the Captain apparently unlocked a drawer at his desk, reaching inside for something she could not see. His voice was dark again and deathly calm. “You should know that I wouldn’t hesitate to dispose of you, should you become a trouble to keep. Desertion has been quite popular as of late,” (Amu hoped he didn’t hear the little, involuntary gasp escape her lips) “Or maybe…”

Amu bit her lip. There was a glint of silver. Just within her line of sight, pulled out from deep within the drawers of his desk, the Captain was idly handling an old, wood-barrelled pistol; the metal tarnished and blackened with substances she did not wish to think about. It wasn’t even primed and ready for firing, but that wasn’t the point. Amu’s blood had run cold long ago, but the sight of that weapon had it frozen stiff in her veins. She could hear those gunshots ringing in her ears again; she could feel that blow to the back of her head.

It was so unreal. It was so unbelievable. Amu could barely gather two words together. She was, in that immediate state of panic, all of a sudden convinced that this had to have been a dream; that she was in her bed back at home at the royal palace suffering from some terrible nightmare from which she could not wake. But, surely, she thought, the dawn would come and the sun would rise and eventually everything would be okay. This room would dissolve and this Captain would fade into nonexistence and she would find peace again. She longed for her home. She longed for her cushy bedsheets and private balcony; for stargazing with her sister and for time in Rima’s company. She wished that the night would come to life again and that the storm would pass and, perhaps most foolishly of all, she wished that her mother had been right. She wished that her mother had spoken true when she had told her that that pendant around her neck was made to bring her luck that would last her an entire lifetime.

As if by reflex, Amu reached for it.

Her fingertips met nothing but the soft touch of skin. Her mouth hung open.

Apparently, the Captain took this as a response because he nodded and in one swift movement threw down his pistol and locked it back into the drawer. _“Ikuto.”_ he barked; “Take her back to her cabin.” He paused. “And _not_ onto the deck.”

Ikuto opened the door obediently. “Yes, Captain.”

Amu didn’t move straight away, so frozen into place as she was. Her hand still resting on her chest (which she now realised felt oh so heavy and naked and _bare_ ) and her pretty little lips still parted wordlessly, Amu took one last look at the Captain before Ikuto steered her out and back into the corridor. She stood in the dim light of the narrow walkway and clawed at her neck.

It was gone.

Her pendant was gone and, with it, a piece of her.

The sound of a latch echoed throughout the small space and Amu drew her attention back to the present. Ikuto was unlocking her cabin door, his brows slightly furrowed. Amu shot him a sideways glance. It was astounding. It was almost impossible for her believe that this quiet, reserved young man could be related to the Captain who so very callously controlled the lives of his crew. If the Captain was like the thunder and the stormy seas, then Ikuto was like a shower; light and fine as a grey mist. How on earth could two opposite ends of the spectrum share a bloodline?

“That’s your father?” she asked him weakly once she had gotten her breath back.

Ikuto exhaled. “Captain Kazuomi Ichinomiya. I…”

And he trailed off, the lull of his voice fading into silence. Amu frowned in confusion, but he was opening the door now and nodding her inside and so she shook her head and complied.

_‘It wasn’t supposed to be this way,’_ she thought woefully. Her eyes were tingling, threatening to tear up. Her cheeks were flushing and her heart was clenching, but she used the last of her will to fight them back, shoving them deep down into the depths of her chest. She refused to cry. Not whilst Ikuto was still stood there. She would not break down before one of her captors, no matter how big a contrast there lay between him and his father. For the first time that day, she wished to be alone so that, if anything, she could have the time and peace to let the tears flow free. Not just for this, but for everything - for the betrayal of her father, the absence of her friend and the undoing of her engagement; for loss of her freedom…

And now her pendant was also gone - the last little thing she had that reminded her of the comforts of home. But now she had nothing left to hold on to. Amu, not for the last time, lay her hands on the empty space below her neck and took a steadying breath.

“I’ll be back later,” Ikuto was still in the doorway. “Just for your meals.”

But Amu wasn’t really listening, his words falling short of her ears. She narrowed her eyes at him, a small spark of hope suddenly blossoming where her locket should have lain. Intertwining her fingers, she realised now, that her rings were gone. Her rings and her bracelet and the garnets that dangled from her earlobes - things that she had all but forgotten about in her confusion and deliria…

“Where have they gone?” she asked, somewhat sceptically, for would he even think to answer her? She didn’t know, but she had to ask. She just had to. Never mind the pretty rings or the golden bracelets, but her _pendant_ … Just that one thing..!

“My jewels,” she pressed when he didn’t answer. “Does the Captain have them?”

Something passed over Ikuto’s expression - something that Amu couldn’t quite place. It was brief and barely noticeable, but, oh, it was there. It felt like alarm - it looked like his breath hitched in his throat; like behind those starry eyes he was searching far and wide and frantically for an answer.

But then he locked his deep, blue eyes with hers and his face was impassive again as he said, unexpectedly firmly; “You might not want mention that to anyone.”

Amu raised an eyebrow. “And why might that be?”

“Because.” he said. “We’re pirates.”

And with that he left the cabin, shutting the door behind him and leaving Amu alone to the silence.

~.~.~


	5. Five

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

The marble surfaces and shiny, sleek furniture of the hall lit up blindingly as the sunlight poured in through the front doors, warm and radiant. The Commander thought he had never known the sun so bright, nor the sky so blue, but it was all irrelevant. It did not matter how clear the sky was. It didn’t matter how pleasant the breeze or how tranquil a summer’s day it might have been. Inside the Hotori mansion the atmosphere was as gloomy as a thunderstorm at sea. It was the sort of atmosphere that one reserves for funerals or memorial sites or for those darkest days when a person has lost all sense of self - all sense of life and joy.

Tadase idly twirled his magnificent silver staff between his palms, itching to do something _(anything!)_ to relieve the restlessness in his heart, but all he could do was wait and worry and watch as the large, blue crystal atop the cane in his hands cast rays of cerulean light across the polished marble of the floor. He huffed loudly, not caring that his echoes would carry to the ears of his servants. He glanced at the clock that hung, ticking away incessantly, above the doorway.

They would be here any minute.

Tadase brew a shaky breath. For all his years of authority; of all his years of service and naval training and for all of his years of weathering the mighty sea, Tadase had never felt more powerless. It was as if his title had been stripped away from him; as if all his strength had sapped from his soul and now he just felt broken and empty.

Something terrible had happened.

He was still waiting, still stood by in vigil beside the doors to his mansion, staring out at the gardens, when he heard those few, tentative footsteps behind him. He knew who it was without even looking around.

“Remind me again,” Tadase began, his voice distant and disheartened; “what time Her Highness was due to arrive last night?”

Her hands folded at her front and her blonde head bowed, Rima had to hesitate before answering. “It should have been quite late,” she replied; “but I am unsure, Commander.”

It was all she could have possibly said on the matter. She was a simple maid. She had not been asked to remember such precise details, though she would not have dared remind him. No matter what counter she had on her tongue, she remained silent. She would have been accused of petulance - of stepping out of line - but Rima was sure he was already aware of this, for something flashed across his face for the briefest of seconds. It was one of disappointment; of hopelessness. It was the look of a man who had been clutching at straws and was now watching as they were roughly yanked away from his grasp - all in all a fruitless effort for which he prayed for an easy solution.

He had not even told Rima the details of Amu’s visit to his home until that morning. Rima had not even known that the Princess’ stay was planned until she had awoken to find her fellow staff frantic with grief and worry. Tadase had not planned to tell Amu about what he had done - of how he had searched for Rima after her expulsion from the Palace; how he had saved her from a life on the streets and offered her a bed in his home. He had hoped it to be one last act of goodwill before her departure to the east - a chance for her to make perhaps the last fond memories she would ever form before she was borne away from these shores.

But then the night had drawn on... And on. And _on_ and Tadase had known then that something was wrong - something was terribly, _terribly_ wrong. Amu had not arrived. Amu who had been set to leave the palace that evening had not yet made it to his home that lay but a mere two hour’s journey from the capital. Had she been waylaid? Had Amu’s journey been postponed without his knowledge? Had she been forced to stop along the way and spend the night elsewhere? It had all been too confusing; all too troubling... 

And then word had reached him that her carriage had been found deserted on the road out of town.

So now Tadase was waiting. Waiting for the King and Queen to arrive on his doorstep and unleash their fury, for surely he was responsible? Surely it was he who was to blame? Surely it was his duty to defend not only their daughter, but this little town from those who sought to strike fear and distress into their hearts?

Oh, his grief knew no bounds. It was like a well in his heart - bottomless and dark. He did not know what he planned to say, he thought as the royal carriage finally rolled onto the driveway and as the King and Queen themselves appeared into view. He did not know how to express his sorrow to them or how he would convey that sense of guilt that gnawed at his very being…

When King Tsumugu and Queen Midori eventually stood before him, their faces grey and apprehensive, he did not dare raise his voice above a whisper for fear that he might break beneath their gaze.

“Your Majesty,” Tadase bowed lower than he had ever bowed before, shutting his eyes tight, unwilling to look them in the eye. He felt as though he should not have been worthy to stand before the eyes of the King. He felt disgusted that he should have had the freedom to spend the night in his own warm, cozy mansion whilst Her Highness had been condemned to whatever end, he could not tell. He wished rather that he had been a beggar. That might have been more fitting, he thought, to be living in squalor and to replace his suit - blue-grey silk and lavish frills and all - with rags and scraps stitched together in dingy alleyways.

“Forgive me, Your Majesties,” Tadase pleaded. He remembered when every breath he took made them only more and more willing to give him their daughter’s hand. He remembered how it had been before the tensions with the empire to the east - when he had been a man worthy of the Princess; able to protect her, able to love her. Only now he was nearly grovelling at her father’s feet, consumed by grief and hurt and _anger_ at how helpless and blissfully ignorant he had been in her hour of peril.

“Tadase.”

Midori’s voice was hushed, but warm as she stepped forwards and placed her delicate hands on his shoulders, bringing him up to face her. The Commander looked into those eyes of hers that reminded him so much of Amu’s, unable to speak. Out of respect, he had never dared touch either the King or Queen before. Never had he so much as shaken their hands. After all, no matter what title he might have held, they were royalty and he was not. And then there were the King’s guards. Yuu Nikaidou and Nagihiko Fujisaki may not have looked as threatening as some of the other guards he knew, but they never left his side and Tadase was well aware that they were capable and willing to protect the King with their lives.

But now the two men were stood a little way behind the pair, watching on as Midori gave the Commander the faintest, smallest of smiles, though her eyes were tearing up, and said;

“Let us go inside,Tadase. Let us see what there is to discuss.”

And, still shameful, Tadase nodded.

~.~.~

It truly was like a part of her soul had been hollowed out, Amu thought as she perched on the edge of the bed in her cabin. She couldn’t stop herself from wringing her hands around her neck; from running her fingertips over her collarbone and glancing down at her chest only to find that empty space that she already knew existed, but refused to accept.

_‘Damned, disgraceful, thieving pirates…’_

Amu sighed heavily contemplated just how much time could have passed by now. It could have been half a day, half an hour, half a minute even that she had been sat here staring into space, pawing at her non-existent locket. She interlocked her fingers together and sat on them just to make it stop. It was hard to tell in here how quickly or slowly the time had gone by, but she settled on the probability that it had been about an hour and definitely no less than that. It was strange for her mind to wander so badly, but, with nothing to do since Ikuto had left, all that there was for her was to sit quietly and allow her brain to take over.

But, of course, the moment she allowed herself to wander - the moment she turned her thoughts back to the reality that was her imprisonment on the Shining Black - it was none other than Captain Ichinomiya’s face that came to mind. Captain Kazuomi Ichinomiya; possibly the most menacing, foreboding man she had ever met. She had only been here less than a day - not even a full twenty-four hours - and already she felt as though she was dangling by a fine thread, her life and safety swinging back and forth precariously, staring down the barrel of the Captain’s pistol. It was no wonder that his crew were so obedient. She could only imagine how life under such a Captain’s authority must feel. The nerves; the uncertainty; that feeling of walking on eggshells, treading on water…

Amu ignored the chill that swept through her body.

"Just how does the Captain keep such a tight leash on his men without a mutiny?" Amu wondered aloud, whispering into the silence that for some unexplainable reason she could not bear to break.

She shook her head, unable to find an answer, and cast her eyes about the room that she would call her own long into the foreseeable future. It was still unsettling and still a world away from home, but at the very least it was not as disgustingly dirty as Captain Ichinomiya’s was, thank goodness. But, _God_ , it was so _small!_ So boxy that it was nothing short of a miracle that that the pirates had managed to cram in each piece of furniture. She had already inspected it all numerous times in her boredom. She had a bed here; a small rounded table and two wobbly chairs; over there - to her right - was a writing desk; a deep, oval-shaped bath to the left… Though she didn't see how on earth she was supposed to use it without any freshwater to fill it up (saltwater wasn't even ideal for cleaning clothes if she wanted them to dry properly). Amu quickly let it go, deciding that she probably wouldn’t use it anyway.

All in all, it wasn’t much. A tiny cabin, a few pieces of unstable furniture and that single porthole above the bed. Amu tried not to look at it. Yes, it let in the light and she thought it might open a crack if she pushed it, but what was there to see out there besides the rolling waves? The gentle water that sloshed around the side of the frigate only served as a reminder of her predicament - of her helplessness and isolation.

Beginning to feel the boredom nagging away at her brain, Amu glanced over to the door and went so far as to hope that perhaps somebody would enter. The minutes ticked by. No one did.

Amu laughed bitterly to herself. "Here I am hoping for the company of corsairs despite my being their hostage." She muttered under her breath, scowling. "If someone were to walk in right now I can probably bet that their news wouldn't be anything good... Why do I allow myself to make such stupid wishes?"

Besides, she reasoned, who would actually think to come inside? The crew were still out on deck (she thought she could faintly hear their clamorous uproar if she pressed her ear against the crack in the door and listened hard enough) and the Captain, as far as she knew, remained in his cabin (where Amu strongly hoped he would stay) and that just left-

_'Ikuto…'_

Indigo and cobalt flashed in her head. Amu frowned to herself, mumbling to the silence once again.

_‘I don’t understand him.’_

It had been there, she realised now, persistently nagging away in her thoughts all day long. Though she could say that she now understood what kind of person the ship’s Captain was, that still wasn’t enough to even begin to explain how his own son seemed to feel about him; how he tensed at the mention of his father’s name; how he clenched his jaw and squared his shoulders, whether he knew it or not… But, then again, why should Captain Ichinomiya give him reason to?

She laughed to herself then, drily chuckling and shaking her head into the quiet of the cabin, for what else could anybody possibly _expect?_ These were buccaneers - seafaring criminals who were feared across the nation; whose names were spoken in whispers and trembling voices; whose evil deeds had swept across the coastline, plundering vessels and setting homes alight, leaving nothing but barren waste and ash and dust in their wake.

And now her fate lay completely in their hands. In the Shining Black’s hands. Could it really be true? Could she really have to remain here for the rest of her life?

Her heart ached with longing. What would her parents do once they realised that their eldest daughter had vanished? What would they do once they heard that she had failed to reach the Hotori home? What would happen if they found her carriage discarded in the ditch at the side of the road?

But, more to the point, what could they do?

Then she felt that burning sensation behind her golden eyes flare up again and Amu forced herself to stop thinking about it for good. Hurriedly wiping away a few lone tears, she turned back to face the door to her cabin.

How would she ever get home?

~.~.~

It was fair to say that whatever Tadase or any of his staff had to tell the King was nothing that he didn’t already know. But, as obvious as that could have ever been, Tsumugu still felt the need to convey his upset as he slammed a fist down upon the desk in Tadase’s drawing room with such a force that the teacup to his right was sent tumbling to the carpet. The tea would stain the rug terribly and it would take some hours for the servants to scrub the worst of the damage out later on in the day, but at that point the spilled liquid was of nobody's greatest concerns.

“Of _course_ she left the palace last night! I sent her on her way _myself!”_ he growled, his ire increasingly fuelled by his fatherly instincts which were currently screaming and thrashing about in horror. The very notion that his - _his!_ \- daughter had disappeared off the face of the earth was enough to send his normally tranquil demeanour crumbling to the ground. He abruptly rose from his chair, beginning to subconsciously pace the drawing room as his true anxiety began to take over.

“I mean…” he continued, suddenly at a loss for words. “I… I…”

From his position in the armchair by the window, Tadase was quick to respond first - if not for the man himself, but for the poor fellow who had asked the unfortunate question and who was currently stood in the doorway; face pale and visibly startled. "Your Majesty," the Commander said, his speech rather rapid just in case Tsumugu were to try and cut him off in his emotional state. "I can _assure_ you-"

_“Why in God’s name was I not informed that my daughter hadn’t reached here last night?”_

In fear of a second explosion, Tadase sunk back into the seat of his chair like a tortoise retreating back into its shell and continued to worry the sleeve of his suit. Though he still felt in the back of his mind that he deserved it, he was not so willing to endure such raw, unbridled fury from his normally placid King. But, then again, the fresh beads of sweat on his brow and the sudden flush of his cheeks told Tadase quickly that he was more a bundle of nerves than truly angered. His blood pumped furiously as his daughter appeared in his mind – even more so when his wild imagination insisted on depicting all the terrible, unspeakable, _disastrous_ things that could possibly ever happen to her. He gasped out;

“And now she is gone - her carriage ransacked! I cannot stand idly by whilst my dear Amu faces such _peril!”_

On the far side of the room there was a choking sound and all heads turned to see the Queen, who had been relatively silent all morning, cup her mouth with a hand and sniff, allowing fresh tears to stain her powdered cheeks at last. "Oh, in the name of the Lord…." was all she could manage before her frantic voice broke and she was forced to make no noise louder than a muffled whimper. She could not even properly thank her maid, Yukari, when the silent woman stepped in to try and comfort the woman, proffering to her a handkerchief.

Although the woman was so visibly distressed and though it pained the hearts of those around to watch a loving mother's anguish over the disappearance of her daughter, it did well to calm the King. His temper dulled on seeing the state of his wife, his fists unclenched. He began to slowly pace towards her, but he did not sit and instead of settling by her side he simply extended a hand for her to take. When she did, he placed it against her dampened skin in an act of both comfort and affection.

Tsumugu took in a breath of air and lowered his tone to a gentle, soft whisper in the hopes that his wife would settle. "Wherever Amu may be, we can look for her." He stated. "We shall find out what has happened." He said, firmer. "And she'll be okay."

His words, though spoken with a brave face, were uncertain and his tone wavered. He was consoling himself more than others, but Midori sniffed again and nodded up at him.

“Your Majesties,” Tadase began softly. He rose from his seat and stepped but an inch towards them, too cautious to invade their personal space, but he forced a reassuring smile and spoke as steadily as he could manage; “Believe me when I say that I feel this burden weigh heavy on my soul. I cannot stand to let this pass. We shan’t rest until we find out that truth - until we find out where Her Highness might have been taken.”

Midori opened her mouth to respond, but Tsumugu cut her off, breaking away from her hold and facing Yuu who stood beside the fireplace; “Nikaidou, I want my wife escorted to our chamber whilst- Tadase!"

But the Commander was already up and marching away from them, not stopping until he reached the door. He turned and stared a powerful, earnest stare that matched his voice. “I will find her.” Tadase said, resolutely. There was a fire in his deep, ruby eyes - an insatiable flame that would not be swayed until he had done his duty to Her Highness Amu Hinamori; for both her safety and his pride. “Your Majesty, I think it appropriate to ask that you entrust me with this task. I do not intend to _rest_ until I find out exactly what has happened! I shall have every guard, every officer, every official in this town on hand to help within the hour!"

And with a firm tap of his staff upon the floor his words were final.

~.~.~


	6. Six

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

Amu had failed to move from her position on the bed for the rest of that day. Time still dragged on slowly. Painfully, _unbearably_ slowly. Amu had never truly realised how excruciatingly slowly a single day could take to pass when left alone and locked away, without even a single hint of company to rely on.

It occurred to her then that it had not even been more than half a day. She had endured not even _half_ a day of imprisonment and isolation and already she felt as though the solitude was driving her mad. Just _how_ would she be able to cope day in and day out if she was doomed to remain caged in her cabin? The silence; the emptiness; that slow rocking of the ship which had begun to torment her with its relentless swaying of side-to-side, always seeming to want to take its own leisurely time… Amu huffed and grit her teeth, growling with frustration. Surely, she thought, she was already walking down the long, crumbling path to insanity if something so insubstantial as the movement of the frigate make her want to scream and cry out in maddening outrage. But it was slower than the ticking of a clock - a counter that put her back two seconds per beat and made her feel as though her stay on the Shining Black would be never-ending.

And so Amu was positively overjoyed, despite her predicament, when she heard the click of the lock and the creaking of her cabin door that signalled the end to her solitary confinement. By the time the sliding of the latch reached her ears, she was already sat upright, eagerly leaning forwards.

Amu watched as Ikuto - that mysterious, blue-haired pirate - sauntered into the room carrying with him a small plate and badly-crafted goblet which leaned on its own base and threatened to spill its contents onto the floor. Despite her curiosity, she remained silent as he wordlessly wandered over to the table and set them down. He looked up at her then and it was as if she’d been given an unspoken command. Compliantly, the Princess rose from her bed and took a few short steps towards the table. She was but a few paces away before stopping abruptly.

What she supposed was her evening meal consisted of a chunk of a hard-looking loaf of bread, a small vine of grapes and an equally small block of cheese. The goblet which balanced precariously on the edge of the table was nearly full to the brim with cheap, dry-smelling wine. She eyed this meagre feast sceptically. It went against her very will to trust these men. It went against her very being to be so stupid enough to accept a meal from them so unquestioningly. Well, what did they expect? She was royalty. She had been trained to be cautious - hell, she had watched her father force his cook to sample his meals before he ate them since before she could ever remember. And now here she was, faced with food a pirate had brought her. It was a warning sign if she’d ever seen one.

Ikuto’s eyes were boring into her. “Eat.”

Amu’s cheeks puffed out in irritation, mildly offended at the underlying implication that she needed his directions. But, even so, as she warily considered her options, her doubt must have shown as clear as day on her face because Ikuto had read her like a book and dared to let out a deep chuckle in amusement.

"It wouldn't do you any good to starve yourself, Your Highness." He said simply and that fleeting, humorous glint in his eyes made her feel as though she were but an inch tall - as though she were not much more than a single grain of salt or a single fleck of salt in this bottomless, endless ocean. “Bread and fruit are short here as it is. It would be such a waste.”

But, then again, no matter how insignificant he made her feel...

Amu frowned, her pretty golden eyes narrowing, and folded her arms stubbornly, squaring her shoulders as though she were about ready to engage in battle. She looked him in the eye; _“You_ eat one first.”

Ikuto raised both eyebrows, his eyes gleaming, and chuckled. “So little trust.” he remarked in mock hurt. But, fair enough to him, he didn’t even hesitate, breezily plucking a grape from its stem and popping it into his mouth. “See,” he demonstrated, still chewing. “Nothing suspicious.”

Unable to shake that uneasy feeling, but somewhat satisfied as she watched him swallow, Amu edged closer to the table.

“Besides,” Ikuto went on, reaching for a crumb of cheese; “those are the last of our grapes. Give it a few weeks and we’ll have nothing but tack.”

And she lightly flushed, cursing herself and blaming her hours upon hours of imprisonment for her irrationality. Besides, it was plain to her at least that the Captain had gone to a lot of trouble to bring her aboard his ship. He wanted her fed and watered and, most of all, he wanted her _alive_ for something - that much was obvious... So why would he think of poisoning her so soon?

“Th-Thank you,” Amu said meekly, beginning to tear off chunks of bread. She glanced back up as Ikuto prepared to make his leave, but he had only just made it to the door when he stopped once more turned to face her;

“Oh, and another thing, Your Highness," he began; "I advise you rest well tonight. The Captain has made up his mind.” She cocked her head to one side and, by way of explanation, he added; “He’s assigned you your duty."

The Princess quickly swallowed a tough piece of cheese and leaned forwards, intrigued, her eyes wide as golden platters. “Oh? And what would that be?”

The low purr that left his throat brought her arms up in nervous goose-bumps.

"You'll be scrubbing the decks tomorrow."

~.~.~

The sun was setting; the breeze picking up as that eventful day drew to an unfittingly peaceful close.

But all was not well and all was not tranquil as Tadase looked down at the lifeless body that lay before him. He stared down at the driver of Amu’s carriage who was sprawled about quite undignified in the middle of the road. Dead. Dead with a bullet lodged right in the middle of his chest - his clothes now near black with the blood stains from that so fatal, gaping wound. And, as awful as it was for Tadase to admit, it had to be said that whoever had done the wretched deed had an incredible aim.

The Commander finally turned away from the body, wrinkling his nose in disgust. The sight was slowly becoming too much for him - the eerie silence; the pure, sickening callousness; the thick smell of dried blood… It was starting to make his stomach churn, but, unfortunately though, there was no escaping the grim sight just yet. He moved around the scene of the crime, regarding the chaos with such an air of concentration that none dared disturb him. The bodies lay in dark, crimson puddles, only half-dried; the smell so strong he couldn’t even begin to avoid it and he briefly wondered how the guards stationed here had managed to keep watch for so long. They had been here for most of the day already - ever since that dark morning when word had reached the Hotori household that the vehicle that was supposed to be carrying Her Highness had been found abandoned on the grassy slopes just outside of town… When they knew that something was most definitely wrong. And since then all he could have thought about was Amu.

_‘Amu. Amu. Amu.’_

He would never have thought that such a scene could’ve taken place so close to the border of their little town. So close, it was, yet he had been so unknowing… Tadase shook away the thought. There was nothing he could do to go back to that night and redeem himself, but if there was one thing he _could_ do it would be to deal out justice to those lowly dogs that had been so brazen as to commit such an atrocity.

Moving on from the dead man, Tadase moved closer to the carriage, still half-dug into the soft earth of the roadside ditch. He moved carefully around the two other bodies - the two horses that had been pulling the vehicle - and swatted away the flies that were buzzing around the unpleasant, unfortunate beasts. He crouched beside the edge of the road, inspecting; wondering. The side door closest to him was left open and the inside was empty. Around him, the dirt was scuffed; fresh smears of upturned earth and dust stood out against the relatively flat-packed turf by the grass. A struggle, then.

And, though terrible, that somewhat lightened the Commander’s heart, for it was a fact now, as far as he was concerned, that the Princess had not disappeared of her own accord. He admitted that he had considered it early on, but it was a short-lived idea; a preposterous idea. No matter what turmoil Her Highness had felt in her heart at being sent on a sudden voyage to the east, Tadase suddenly felt very angry at himself for thinking her so cowardly. Why on earth would Amu have ever done such a thing, he thought to himself? Why would that strong, capable woman he knew and cherished willingly abandon her responsibilities for nothing?

No, she wouldn’t. And now Tadase could prove it.

His brows knitted together, a harsh noise of frustration leaving his lips. He still had to find out who was behind this traitorous act towards Her Highness and, ultimately, toward the Crown itself. To state that finding and punishing those perpetrators wouldn’t be an easy task would be an incredible understatement when he considered, helplessly defeated, that he had almost nothing to aid him in his search. He had not a clue - not a single lead nor hint, nor even enough information to at least _attempt_ to make an educated guess. All he had was a missing Princess, a few dead bodies and an empty carriage and he felt utterly _useless_. He felt weak and broken at the very thought of Amu disappearing from his life so suddenly; so brutally! It was like something had been torn from his very being; as if something within him had been irreparably damaged, never to feel whole again.

What if he never saw her again? What if she was truly lost to some unpleasant end? What if he was truly powerless to save her..?

A life without Amu… It didn’t even bear thinking about. Such a life - a cold, cruel, desolate life - would not be worth living whilst he still loved her from the very bottom of his now-dented heart. Ever since the two of them had played together as children in his family home he had felt something there towards her. It was something warm and bright and enlightening and it had only ever grown and grown as they had aged together. It was painful. Painful because of its strength; painful because he could not fulfil it; and painful because whenever she was not there with him he felt a little more empty with every passing day.

Painful, yet beautiful and miraculous and completely exhilarating. And he could not bear to lose the source of his strength. He could not bear to think of facing such a life.

But as soon as these hopeless thoughts entered Tadase’s mind, they were replaced by a sudden burst of fiery determination as he realised that he absolutely could not think like that. He would not allow Amu to come to harm. He would not allow himself not to find her. Any feelings that made him want to give up; to break down had to be thrown away. Tadase had to be strong. He had to stay strong and determined and motivated to find her safe and sound and to help her make it through. After all, he had been her fiancé and he had vowed even before his wedding day to keep her safe - to keep her happy - and he would vow all the more to cherish her no matter what.

And so Tadase closed his eyes and began to mentally rummage through what little knowledge he had of this event because there _had_ to be something! Even if there wasn't any evidence at the scene to aid him, _any_ idea was a potential lead. If worse came to worst, any theory could be build on until he hit that eventual goldmine of sorts. And, with so little here at the site of the struggle, _anything_ was valuable.

He knew, he thought, that whoever was responsible knew that Amu would be arriving in town that night. The scene was so clean - so perfectly picked of clues - that whatever had befallen their Princess; whatever had caused her perfect vanishing act must have been planned and prepared thoroughly before the night in question. And a vanishing act it truly was, but it had been no coincidental encounter. Tadase began to pace around the coach, deep in his own deductive thoughts. Travelling thieves and bandits were known to leave quite a mess - as scavengers ravage a carcass, tearing their victim apart, leaving the chaos behind… Yes. It had definitely been planned.

“Commander Hotori?”

Tadase glanced to his side, distracted, as Nagihiko appeared beside him, having been assigned to his duty by King Tsumugu himself. He watched as the Commander inspected the sight before him carefully.

"They knew she was coming."

Taken aback, Nagihiko found he could do little more than blink and reply dumbly; "T-They did?"

Tadase nodded, his face as serious and grave as Nagi had ever seen it, and, with one last glance at the interior of the abandoned carriage, he stepped back and began marching down the road towards his own waiting vehicle at the bottom of the slope.

"Excuse me? Commander?" Nagihiko called after him, at a loss for words. “Where are you going?"

But he just cast his eyes one last time over the landscape - over the gold-glowing waves of grass as the sun sank low in the sky and the darkening town and the faint stretch of sun glittering upon the waters beyond - and climbed into the coach.

"To speak with His Majesty." he replied simply. He slammed the coach door behind him and leaned out though the space of the window to answer the guard's question. "Whoever took Her Highness knew she was travelling here last night. I must notify the King and find out who could have possibly known about her plans."

And with those final words on the matter Tadase's coach pulled away, leaving Nagi stood in the road to make his own way back.

~.~.~

It was as the news of Princess Hinamori’s disappearance began to sweep across the nation that the clumsy parrot made it back to the frigate.

As the nation of Seiyo was gripped by panic - as they were left fearful and afraid and full of doubt; as they mourned and grieved and as the sun began to set on the horizon, the silence that had held the cabin in an uncomfortable grasp was abruptly shattered. The bird’s scrabbling and fluttering reached the ears of the Captain and a wry smirk played upon his dry lips. He rose from his chair, watching as it effortlessly swooped away from the stern window, scattering small, emerald feathers about the grimy floorboards. The Captain glared at the brainless bird as it settled itself atop a pile of parchment on his desk, insistently squawking at him. He glowered and went to latch the window shut before going to take his seat again.

“Quite the short journey, bird,” he muttered, looking down at the creature with disdain as it hopped up to perch on his forearm. “That must mean word has begun to spread.”

It screeched again in response, as if it wished to agree with him. Captain Ichinomiya raised his arm; his eyes fixated upon the bird’s leg to which there had been attached a small scroll, bound and securely attached with a piece of wire. Surprisingly gently, he removed it, abandoning the wires somewhere on the desk rather than leaving them to cause the creature any discomfort. He even went so far as to ruffle its feathers as a reward for its service.

Slowly, carefully, he unfurled the parchment in anticipation and there was quiet once more.

"Hmm…" He hummed lowly to himself as he scanned the writing, shifting when the parrot decided to rest upon his shoulder. "So the search party for our little Princess has started…" He murmured. "And in less than a day, too. Very impressive. Very impressive _indeed..."_

He silently read once more before carelessly abandoning it. Countless other notes and scrolls lay discarded in front of him - their ink faded and edges blackened as the candles burned lower and lower to the surface of the desk.

“It’s only a matter of time now until they figure it out.” Kazuomi continued, the cruel smirk evident in his tone. It sounded like triumph and cunning and evil deeds that were yet to come; something devious and despicable and it seemed that to anyone who might walk into that dark cabin at that moment, they would perceive that an ominous shroud of darkness seemed to cover him like a cloak. “It will be but another day or two until King Tsumugu’s loyal subjects know to search the seas… But still…” He chuckled without mirth. “The Shining Black is but a spirit… And she is _vital...”_ He whispered, sounding among the maddest of men that had ever walked this earth. And then he looked up - his features darkening under his hat and his eyes wicked in the candlelight - and he gave a twisted, malevolent grin to the man on the other side of the room.

"Eh, Ikuto?"

From his position by the door, Ikuto said nothing – partly because the Captain's disturbing behaviour had shaken his very soul into silence and partly because there was nothing to say. No matter what the reasons though, Kazuomi sighed heavily and narrowed his eyes at his stubborn son, knowing full well that the man could hear his every word and, whilst it may have maddened him to witness such insolence, he continued on still.

“We shall have to keep a close eye on her.” he began, watching his son's every move as a wolf watches an injured sheep. “We shall need to make sure that she stays in line. I am not about to underestimate her - not she who is qualified to take rein of the empire.”

Silence.

“You’ll be in charge of that, right, Ikuto?”

More silence.

"Keep a close eye on her. Just… Not too close. We wouldn't want anything too unfortunate to happen, would we now? Especially when we know we are to keep our distance…"

It was like a twisted music to Kazuomi's ears when Ikuto finally spoke;

“No.” His voice was monotone - flat and dead of feeling despite the fact that his insides were curling and clenching and _snarling_ at the belittling way his Captain addressed him; as if he were a child being told to stay away from the heat of the fire. He wished for solitude. He longed for peace; for a breath of fresh air that wasn’t thick with salt and spray. “No. Of course not, Captain.”

And so, unwilling to remain in the cabin any longer and desperate to calm his unsettled nerves, he turned to leave, making the excuse that he had to return to his duties. Kazuomi's voice stopped him dead in his tracks.

“Ikuto.”

Ikuto didn’t turn back to face him, but he stilled, ravaged by the silence as he waited for Kauzomi to continue. When he did, he served only to make his son’s blood boil.

"You shall address me as your father." (Ikuto visibly twitched.) "When we are alone," the Captain said darkly, slowly so as to let the words sink deep into his skin; "you shall address me as is appropriate. The fact is that I _am_ your father."

The reply was strangled, but clear. "Yes, father."

And he exited the cabin before the Captain could say anything more.

Ikuto let the door slam shut behind him - let it crash against its frame with such a force that the walls rattled and the padlock swung, chains screeching violently. He grit his teeth; felt the aggression wash over him, consuming him until he saw red; ‘til his mind screamed at him to turn back and give his 'father' just what he truly deserved.

_'Because you're not my father.’_

The thought echoed in his head, bolder and louder than all others, until he felt weak and disorientated. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take - of remaining so stoic and silent before the man who tormented him; who _enraged_ him and tethered him still to the bow of this damnable ship… But he was afraid. Too afraid to lose control because, ultimately, that would only give his Captain too much satisfaction. He unclenched his fists and leaned against the doorframe, trying to breathe, trying to fend off the rage that bubbled too close to the surface...

He was spent and light-headed, desperately _(barely)_ trying to contain the shakes that threatened to wrack his body.

Ikuto truly didn’t know how much more he could take.

Every day grew longer; every trial harder; every night fell darker and each sunrise further and further away from reach. And with every pathetic dawn his resolve grew weaker.

“You,” he whispered - not to himself, nor entirely to the Captain, but more so to those dark whispers that clouded every thought; “You are _not_ my father..." 

He regained his balance and backed away and, suddenly very sick of being in such close proximity to the man behind the door, Ikuto quickly rose, backing away from it as though it were deadly.

“I don’t know what you did to him… But you were never my father…” He shook his head and turned away, aiming to head for the deck, hoping to cool his head in the fresh air of the ocean; “And you never shall be…”

But, as Ikuto neared the doorway at the end of the corridor, he was struck still.

It was barely audible; barely noticeable. It was as faint as the sound of the sea outside, hushed and breathy as the water lapped lethargically at the stern, barely breaking. But it had the flames of his ire dying down. It had his body slackening. It had his fists falling limply at his sides as he stepped towards the door to his left - opposite Amu’s cabin - and listened as that sorrowful sniffling reached his ears.

Oh, he knew who was in this room… And it hurt too much to think about as he weakly leaned his head against the door and felt his heart clench.

What had he done this time? What had the Captain wrought upon her fragile mind so callously as to make her weep? What foul nightmare had he recalled from her memory; what part of her miserable life had he seen fit to jest?

Ikuto took a breath and hung his head low, as if he could somehow slink away into the darkness and find respite. He was so utterly helpless - so guilty, so distressed. Not a day went by when he didn’t wish he could break down this door and tear away her chains and set her free - send her drifting far, far away to some haven where she would never have to set eyes on this ship or the white diamond ever again. What he would give for it… He would do anything if it meant she could go free. Even if it meant that he himself would never be allowed to walk free on this earth again.

No. Ikuto tried not to let a bitter laugh escape his lips. No… There was no chance of that. There was no hope; no light. He was already stuck here. He was already staring down that ruinous path that had been laid out for him by their Captain. He would be forced to stay here on this ship, sailing the seas on the Shining Black forevermore, but no matter how bleak his future seemed to him - no matter how weighed down he was by rope and chain - if he could give _her_ the life she deserved, safe and far from Kazuomi’s clutches, then that would be enough for him. That would be his peace. That was all he needed.

Because _she_ didn’t deserve this.

_'Father would not have settled for this.'_ he mused. And then he glanced briefly back towards the Captain’s cabin and it was as if the darkness that shrouded the corridor had begun to settle within his mind. He seethed.

_'You never shall be…'_

~.~.~


	7. Seven

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

It had to be said that in all of his years aboard the Shining Black, Ikuto had never seen anything quite like this. Nothing of this magnitude had ever occurred within living memory. He had never supposed that the Captain, with all his talk of anonymity and with all the drastic measures he had taken in the past ten plus years to ensure their secrecy, would have actually taken a step so bold; so brazen. Never had he believed that Kazuomi would have actually been so daring as to snatch away the King’s daughter… But there they were. And there she was down there, begrudgingly attending to her duty, scrubbing out the stubborn spots of grime that latched themselves onto the planks. It was hard to believe that she had royal blood flowing throughout her veins. It was so incredibly difficult to believe that that mere servant down there had descended from the royal family who had ruled their country for centuries.

Ikuto watched the woman with intrigue. He’d been doing that for a little while now; finding himself a spot on the quarterdeck and simply observing her actions from afar. He’d noticed her slow, slacking over the course of the working day. He noticed the way her cheeks flared up and clashed with the pink of hair hair; the way her forehead shone with sweat in the sunlight; he noticed that little spark in her eyes dim, though, not extinguish - no, never extinguish.

She had been fairly enthusiastic at the start of that day, he’d thought. Ikuto had to bite back an amused grin. Amu, apparently, was not a morning person. Oh, how terribly difficult it had been to take her seriously as she huffed and puffed and threw the most unladylike words of protest at him… The Princess was definitely not what he expected. Especially not when she had stepped out of her cabin to begin her first full day of toil aboard the Shining Black, her attitude a complete turnaround! Freshened up and ready to go and absolutely determined not to let her situation drain her of all will to carry on…

Ikuto wished he had that mindset.

Amu’s tactic, it seemed, was to power her way through the grease to get the job done as quickly as possible, yet now she looked spent - sluggishly dragging her brush across the deck, barely lifting even a spot of dirt. And yet still she went on. Still she frowned at the dirt she was tending, shaking her head as if to shrug off fatigue...

Ikuto sighed lightly;

“She worked herself too hard.”

A shake of the head followed as he watched one particularly large brute of a buccaneer snap at the Princess to work faster. She forced herself to comply, hauling herself across the deck by her hands and knees.

Really, Ikuto thought, who would be foolish enough to kidnap the Princess of Seiyo? Let _alone_ put her to work on such trivial chores? He had thought perhaps that Kazuomi would have simply locked her away in her cabin - caged her up like an exotic bird and thrown away the key and allowed her to be driven to insanity (God knows how _he_ hadn’t lost his sanity in those first few months) or that maybe, just maybe, he would have tried to accomplish his goal quickly whilst they still had the luxury of freedom rather than dragging the entire situation out for longer than needed. As it was, none of them really knew how long it would be before they had the Royal Navy on their tail…

But just how long would this continue on for?

Ikuto supposed he pitied her, though admittedly in a very slight sort of way. He realised that perhaps he merely felt that she was too… _unfortunate_ to have been unwillingly dragged into this wild goose chase. And so he stood above her as she worked, watching from afar with such a sense of curiosity that he hadn’t felt in so, so long - not when every day on this vessel was the same day in, day out. He took in her pink hair; her milky skin; her sunny eyes that were all so truly fit for a Princess such as her and inside he felt some sort of torment - a violent unrest that would only grow and grow within him once he considered all of the numerous, unspeakable things his Captain might one day do to the poor girl in an effort to fulfil his goals. The Captain was merciless - willing to go to no small ends for his own desires. It was as clear to Ikuto - so very clear as a cloudless day - that Her Highness was beautiful, but Kazuomi could taint that beauty. He wanted to corrupt it; to twist it; he wanted to use her for his own personal gain and throw her away once he was satisfied as easy as he threw away the rest of his worthless crew. Their Captain’s selfish cause had brought such trouble already... And once he finally confronted her, Amu, like every other poor soul aboard the Shining Black, was unlikely to find a way out.

Ikuto was still watching her.

Amu's relieved voice, high and clear as birdsong, just about reached his ears. He found her thanking a pirate who had just allowed her a short break and Ikuto took in the wearied smile on her face as she walked with a new spring in her step towards the hold.

He wondered for how much longer she would be able to smile like that.

~.~.~

Amu grimaced, her dainty features crumpling in the most ungraceful manner as the lukewarm water ran back down the deck of the ship and back over her hands; dirty brown and stinking, the loose grit she’d been scrubbing at washing back over her fingers. It was all so undignified, so filthy, that at first it had made her want to retch.

But that wasn’t the attitude, she told herself. That sort of prim and proper, squeamish behaviour wasn’t going to get her anywhere if she wanted to survive during her time on this ship! Amu had resolved the moment she’d set foot on the deck that morning - the moment the bucket and brush had been dumped at her feet - that she would _not_ give these barbarous pirates an excuse to think her weak! Not them, not the Captain..!

_No._ That certainly wouldn’t have been the right attitude, Amu thought, no matter how laborious and painstakingly slow the task was. Her soft skin was blistering by now. The silky smooth of her hands was gradually growing redder and sorer as her palms rubbed against the wooden scrubbing brush. It had probably been used thousands of times already – most likely since the vessel had first set sail – and the back was unusually smooth with wear, but its sides, on the other hand, were rugged with deep grooves and splinters, rubbing her raw as she rocked back and forth and back and forth...

She winced as yet another drenched, dull, ineffective splinter rubbed painfully against the side of her hand. Amu could have snarled in frustration. She scratched madly at the affected area before plunging the brush back into the bucket of water beside her and continuing to scrub away at the wooden boards on the deck. Sighing wearily, the Princess let the water slosh over the surface and began to watch the crew go about their work, that was, until one of them yelled at her to get back to work. Grumbling in a way that her tutors would have strongly reprimanded her for; she glared at a plank of wood and focused all her irritation into harshly scouring at it; scratching at it; clawing at it feebly. It was an effective technique, she found. Though her aching back was hunched and creaked like a rickety rocking chair with every movement and her knees were painfully sore, the work was over and done with at a much quicker pace. The dried dirt on the plank's surface was removed quickly and was swiftly taken away by the water as it moved through the grooves in the floor, washing away languidly like the swash of waves on the shore.

Job done, Amu moved to another wooden plank and, as she did before, aggressively scrubbing and just hoping that with the work done sooner she may be allowed a moment of well-earned rest. In her opinion, rest was something she was largely entitled to at that moment. She needed a break; a chance to let off some of her pent-up annoyance. Personally, she believed that she had every right to be irritated - even forgetting the whole 'being-on-a-pirate-ship' situation.

To begin with, the Princess had been rather rudely woken up at some God forsaken hour - the sun had not even begun to rise and yet there she had been, hauling herself from the relative warmth of her covers, thrust cruelly into the cold morning air... And only _then_ had she found out that the wake-up call had been quite unnecessary as she had then been expected to sit around uselessly for perhaps a couple of hours or so whilst she waited for someone to see to her. Her night had been horribly long and lonely. She could not settle; could not find rest whilst her head still spun and the fear coursed through her bloodstream. Had exhaustion not sent her off, she would have probably remained awake until morning.

But in the end it didn’t matter, for Ikuto had banged loudly on her door before waltzing in – _without permission_ – at the crack of dawn. Amu would have perhaps been less angered had she not been halfway through dressing _or_ had he not decided to give her a long look over instead of apologising and leaving her be.

But of course not.

After almost diving back into bed to hide beneath the security of her covers - her face ablaze with crimson and frantically covering herself behind her dress - and after asking him what on _earth_ he was doing, he'd casually informed her that her work on the ship would start that day and ordered her to get dressed before he brought her some food. She'd glared at the door even after he had left, as if she might be able to scald him with her vision alone; getting into her clothes as quickly as she could just in case he decided on coming back and seeing more than he should.

_'The vile man..!'_

_Honestly!_ Did he think he could just enter a lady's room like that _without permission?_ Especially when she was in her undergarments! Who did he think he was? Granted, perhaps he was not as well accustomed to matters such as general _decency_ as her, but nevertheless he could not be blind to it! The royalty in her was appalled and embarrassed and Amu still wasn’t sure whether or not she could look him in the eye.

But no, she had then felt plain miserable - guilty even after having made such accusations about the man. Ikuto had actually knocked upon his return and, though he didn't actually wait for more than a few seconds for a response (she had to remind herself that she _was_ among rogues) she had to give some sort of credit to him. He brought her food (and even sampled a small morsel for her, just in case she still had any doubts about the side effects of pirate food) and even told her that she could take her time as her duty would not start for some time. And so she sat and ate in silence, still feeling a little humiliated knowing that Ikuto had seen her in ways that were quite inappropriate… But still, that guilty conscience of hers had risen up from the pit of her stomach. Perhaps she was a little too hot-headed that morning.

But were pirates not also lecherous and vile?

_'Honestly,'_ Amu thought to herself and finally, although it had taken near enough the entire morning, she was eventually beginning to wish for some brief respite in her cabin again. At least she would not be out here in the blistering heat and aching from head to toe as she was forced to settle on the solid wood of the deck. She would have been a little less uncomfortable if the water was cooler and refreshing instead of the disgusting temperature that covered her hands and soaked her dress through to her stockings, dimming the gold of her skirts to bronze.

_'Come on now,'_ Amu told herself sternly, feeling those hard-working, self-determined streaks that would make her a strong leader kick in; _'what were you expecting? You're not in the Palace anymore.'_

Amu kept telling herself this in her head as she cleaned, repeating it over and over until the words became nothing but a jumbled, confusing blur. If anything, this work was at least taking her mind off the subject that had plagued her throughout the night.

_‘The Captain must have my locket.’_

And then her heart grew heavy, for she had partly been pushing herself so hard to try and _forget_ that little thought that bothered her most.

Until, thankfully, Amu was abruptly brought back to reality. She jumped, started, as to her side there sounded a _CRASH!_ so violent that her pail of water leapt from the very floor of the deck itself. She wouldn't have had time to catch the container even if she'd thought to try because, at the last minute, it was skilfully caught by a member of the crew who in a flash set it back upright with not a single drop missing.

The man breathed out a sigh of relief whilst Amu took a calming breath.

"I'd better be more careful next time…" he said quietly to no one in particular, running a hand through flyaway, rusty hair.

Amu looked at him with interest as he remained knelt beside the bucket, a hand pressed to its side cautiously as if it would tip over at any minute. And then he drew out a heavy, long-winded breath and picked up a brush of his own before getting back to his own work. Amu watched him quizzically. He hadn't even acknowledged her presence so far, unusual considering that the entire crew was privy her situation. But this pirate didn’t even glance at her as he went about his work as enthusiastic and chipper as she had been that very morning, though his energy appeared unrelenting, ceaseless as he vigorously scrubbed away, the muscles of his strong, tanned arms bulging with the effort. It was tiring, it was repetitive and it was possibly the dreariest task Amu had ever been set in her life and yet there this man was giving it all he had whereas _she_ had been exhausted within the first hour. She wondered if he was merely used to it, but, whatever it was, it was commendable.

It was then as she gave him that eager look of admiration that he paused in his labour and looked over at her. Amu felt herself flush, mortified at being caught staring so rudely, and opened her mouth ready to profoundly apologise for her behaviour. But as the words were about to leave her mouth the pirate, instead of glaring or snapping or cursing at her, shot the Princess a massive grin - a massive, sun-shiney, toothy grin that left her speechless. Briefly, Amu thought of her friend Nagihiko whose smile always felt warm and genuine; whose grins of both delight and comfort alike always reached his hazel eyes and made her feel as though she was somewhere safe. It wasn’t possible to put into words how soothing Nagi’s reassurance would have been to her at that moment, but she was certain as she felt her own lips twitching that this pirate’s beam had the same effect. She forgot then that this man was a pirate - forgot that she was afloat on this frigate in the middle of nowhere, trapped and out of her depth. And, as far as she was concerned, that was all she needed.

There was no hesitation as he shifted over to her and spoke in a tone that was so wonderfully uplifting and friendly;

“Hey!”

Amu felt relieved, if taken aback.

“H-Hello...”

“I’m Kukai!” he introduced himself loudly, cheerfully; “Sorry ‘bout that! Been chasing after this idiot all mornin’...” He pointed over his shoulder. A gorgeously green parrot with the brightest yellow breast was perched atop the bulwark, watching them curiously. “This here’s my buddy, Daichi!”

Forgetting herself, Amu let a small laugh escape her lips; "You named your parrot?"

Kukai chuckled at her reaction, the sun reflecting in his olive green eyes, glowing like sunlight through a dense forest canopy. He shrugged. “Well," Kukai began casually, drawing out the word for a couple seconds; "I was the one that found him, so I s'pose I get the privilege. 'Sides, he's gotta have a name, right?"

Still unsure, Amu shrugged also. “Well, I suppose so...”

He nodded enthusiastically and his scruffy hair bounced every which way. “See?” he leaned back on his hands, leisurely picking away at a scuff of dirt on the floor beside him as if he had all the time in the world. “Found him on a tropical island about the southern seas… Or somethin’ like that anyway. But, man, the little guy wouldn’t leave me alone! Tried to sneak him on board, but the Cap’n was so insistent on makin’ use of him, so I guess I’m lucky I got ta keep him…”

At this, Amu tilted her head toward the colourful bird in interest. Daichi was hopping about animatedly, cleaning at its feathers. Oblivious, Kukai went on;

“Little guy’s great for communicatin’ ‘n shit,” he mused, seemingly unaware of his own words and Amu’s eyes widened a fraction. She wasn’t sure he was supposed to be telling her such things - how much further was he planning to go on, she wondered? But Kukai just let out a bark of laughter and glanced back over at the parrot, his fondness for the bird clearly outweighing all else. "He loves it! Gets to go back on land, after all. He'll just go out there, find a place to crash for a few days an’ eventually one of the Captain's on-shore folks'll- _ACK!"_

Kukai stopped mid-sentence and started to choke on his own words. Amu flinched, her heart pounding at the mere thought of what kind of trouble the two of them could find themselves caught up in if he had continued to spill the Shining Black's secrets.

Kukai coughed, red in the face and spluttering. “Woah, ah-! I’m sorry! I- I really, _really_ shouldn’t be tellin’ you about any of that! Uh, look, you didn't hear anything’, okay?" he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly and strained a smile. Inside, she thought it clear that he was but a terrified mess at the thought of her ratting him out.

But, meanwhile, Amu was at a loss for how to react. The two of them were not old friends nor even acquaintances - she was his Captain's _prisoner_ and yet here he was chatting amicably as though they had known each other for years. Was his tongue truly that loose? Was he truly so absent-minded that he didn’t even realise he was giving such vital information to his Captain's hostage?

But Amu stared back into those olive green eyes and returned that subtle smile and she thought that she saw nothing but an honest man - a good man and a kind heart. She winked conspiratorially and said to him confidently; “I never heard a word.”

Relieved, Kukai put a hand on his chest and breathed as if he had not taken a lungful of air for years. _"Thank_ you," he gasped, sounding honestly grateful; “If the Cap’n found out about _that_ … Well...” He shuddered at the thought of Captain Kazuomi’s wrath and picked up his brush again. He went about his task with noticeably less energy as his mind wandered, most probably counting in his head all the horrifying ways he'd be punished by the Captain if he got into trouble. He appeared to be in such a trance that the woman made a move to begin on her work once again, but she heard him mutter quietly; "Dear Lord, my tongue gets any looser 'n Captain'll cut it off…"

Amu sighed wearily. "I can believe that."

Kukai chuckled without mirth. "Yeah, yeah he'll cut it up all right – cut anyone up if he wants." And the he stopped and hummed with interest. "Ooh, yeah, so _you're_ Miss Hinamori. Bet he's put the gun on you already, Hina–" (and he choked a second time) _"–U-uh!_ If I can call you that..?" His hand once more found the back of his head. It must have been a nervous habit.

Amu half-heartedly shrugged her shoulders and slowly ran the brush over the deck; her energy dwindling. "Don't worry about it." She reassured him in the kindest tone she could manage. It was strange - here she was taken prisoner aboard the Shining Black and yet she still deep in her heart felt the need to treat him as warmly as he had treated her. "It doesn’t really matter anymore. It doesn’t make a difference where I’m from - I’m a different person here on this ship. Otherwise I wouldn’t wouldn't have been put to work cleaning the floors."

Kukai hummed again in response and considered this for a moment. "Well you're more important than _me_ that's for sure!" he said, pointing a thumb towards himself in a way so oddly positive that it had Amu raising her eyebrow in confusion. "Ever since I've been here I've never moved very high up the pecking order. Most of the men here are older than me, so they've always seen me as just a young'un compared to them."

“Oh…” Amu murmured; “So…” she began, unsure whether or not it would be wise to test the waters. The hardened voice of the Captain rang in her ears. She was to have little to no contact with his crew, or so he’d said…

_‘What that man doesn’t know won’t hurt him,’_ she thought, perhaps against her better judgement. "So how long have you been on this ship?" she finished her question and hoped she wasn't pushing her luck. She didn't plan on letting Captain Kazuomi know that she was socialising with his crew, but decided to tread carefully just in case.

The pirate next to her just shrugged. "Well, I couldn't say how many years have gone by. I don't remember that well… but I've been here since I was a child. I must’ve been _real_ little too..." A faraway look overcame his face and a tiny ghost of a smile tugged at Kukai’s lips. "I was kind of at the wrong place at the wrong time… Came across the Cap’n an’ saw one of his gang's raids. Didn't hesitate to bring me back with him."

Amu felt absolutely aghast. “T-That’s _awful!”_ she exclaimed, her jaw hung open in shock. “To go so far as to take a little boy for- for _that?_ So you- you wouldn’t have seen your family since you were small?” It was unthinkable. It was too cold and deplorable for words. As hard as she might have tried, Amu could never in a million years imagine having to through such an ordeal. But, then again, it was only now that she could understand how it felt to be so suddenly separated from those that she loved - the heartache; the sorrow; bare and vulnerable before the things that lurked in the shadows.

But Kukai went on, not noticing the gloom that had overcome her expression. “Nah, I never really had anybody important to me at that age," he said; “though at the very least the Cap’n gave me a home of sorts. Before this I was livin’ on the streets." And he laughed again, bright and clear and unexpected; “You think this ship’s dirty? Man, you should’a seen them side-streets! Good _Lord!”_

Amu couldn’t even reply - couldn’t even whisper as she felt her heartstrings tug. Forget being kidnapped; forget the Captain or the crew or the willingness with which Kukai had greeted her. In that moment, the thing that startled her more than all of that was simply how Kukai could talk so nonchalantly about his life - as if it were nothing; as if he were discussing the weather or the tide or something equally trivial, not at all the fact that he had been a godforsaken homeless boy, alone in the world and the cold of the streets with no family; no one to provide for him; to _care_ for him… And it was as if it were nothing. Kukai was not moping or weeping or angry; he wasn’t sad nor depressed or awkward about spilling his sorrows with this perfect stranger...

The Princess wondered if her face was really that expressive because Kukai at that point let out a chuckle. “I suppose it’s weird in a way I’ve never been bothered,” he told her airily; “but some o’ the guys on this ship aren’t all that bad, really, and we all kinda help each other out. They’re practically my family now, I guess.”

“I-I see…” Amu frowned. The gears in her brain were steadily beginning to turn.

_‘I didn’t think the crew would be this close…”_

_"HEY!"_ a deep, threatening voice shouted from behind them. A tall, square-jawed pirate snapped at them,and Amu and Kukai just about jumped out of their skin. "GET BACK TO WORK!"

There was a mad dash as the two of them lunged for their brushes and frantically began to scrub at the rough wood of the deck, ignoring the pain in their hands and the screaming in their backs, but Amu’s mind was still drifting. She glanced for a brief second at the pirate beside her -

Such an unbelievably happy-go-lucky person; so _uncharacteristic_ ; so out of place on this ship... But he was animated. He was cheerful and optimistic. He was full of live and spirit and vigour and he seemingly showed no fear - he was completely unfazed at greeting the newcomer - a member of the royal family as if they were old friends. 

Kukai had made her feel welcome and he had made her feel like maybe - just _maybe_ , as stupid as it sounded! - she would have _one_ person to turn to on this ship. It was ridiculous and absurd she was sure that her short time here aboard the Shining Black was already started to chip at her sanity… But Amu honestly felt like she might have found someone here who could almost be considered a friend. And it made her previously irritable, grumbly mood dissipate into thin air. 

"Man," Amu heard Kukai mutter to himself; "so this is what you get for letting Daichi loose down below…"

Hearing the mention of his name, the parrot, Daichi, swiftly swooped down from his spot on the bulwark and began to circle around his owner, trying to find a suitable place on Kukai's body to perch on.

_"Oi!"_ the rusty-haired pirate waved an arm at the green bird. Feathers flapped everywhere, flying into the man's face like a shower of leaves in the fall. _"I'm tryin'a work here!"_

Amu chuckled to herself. Kukai had utterly defied the typical ‘bloodthirsty buccaneer’ stereotypes that she had been expecting, demolishing them into the dust. Not a hint of cold blood ran through his veins. Not a vengeful nor threatening word had left his mouth and the sight of his smile rivalled the shine of the sun on the water.

To the side, Amu giggled quietly and asked herself the question: _'Is this really the Shining Black I've heard about?'_

~.~.~


	8. Eight

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

The midday sun was already high above the coastal town when the majestic coach passed by the docks. It charged through the little side streets, taking the more direct route to the scene of the latest crime; its rich colours and gleaming crest a striking contrast against the crumbling bricks and dull hues of the poorer parts of town. People hurriedly gave way, astonished at the sight of such an upper-class vehicle in their midst; moving their children and their carts full of goods out of its path as it wound its way around the stalls of the small market up ahead. An ageing stray cat jumped out from somewhere in the middle of the road, narrowly avoiding a collision under the wheels, and deftly leapt up onto a pile of crates outside an old bakery and simply sat there, watching as the coach passed by. Eventually coming to a stop outside along the waterfront, the driver quickly hopped down and opened the door for his passenger.

Tadase emerged from the vehicle and cast his eyes across the waters, the ruby red of his eyes shining brightly under the glare. If the man had had to describe the scene before him in one word, the first thing to come to mind would have been 'unsuspicious'... Until he looked harder, of course.

The townspeople went about their daily business behind him, meandering about the waterside market; browsing through the stalls and little shops as if they had all the time in the world with which to do whatever they pleased, yet despite the calm and pleasant scene, Tadase could not help but frown in the locals' direction. It was far _too_ calm - far _too_ pleasant. It was as though a veil had been cast over the streets - a veil with which to cover up far more unpleasant occurrences; to lull the people into a false sense of security. It was like sweeping the dust under the rug before the guests arrived; burning incense to cloak foul smells; even simply pushing unwanted thoughts into the back of one's mind. It was deceptive. For example, that pot of sunflowers stationed outside the baker's window concealed a mess of broken glass; that stack of crates blocked the entrance to an empty establishment - once booming with business only to be locked up during its busiest hours; and, behind him, those who unloaded their foreign goods from ships at the quay worked in the most peculiar manner. They scurried up and down like frightened mice, heads hung low and fearful whispers cutting through the tense air. A woman walking past dropped a basket of vegetables and one of them jumped so fiercely that he almost stumbled back into the longboat bobbing beside him.

Unlike the locals, Tadase saw it all.

And then he let out a sigh - a long, heavy exhale - and looked around once more. He was glad to see a second coach heading in his direction. He straightened up and watched it roll to a halt.

"Good afternoon, Commander." Nagihiko was once again away from the King's side to assist. "I hope you have not waited long."

Tadase was silent as the man wandered over, waiting until he paused to respond. "Not at all… Mr Fujisaksi." Truthfully he was quite unsure of how to properly address the man. Before he had only ever needed to address a man of Nagi's position as simply 'Guard', but, now that he was working alongside him, he'd realised that this was perhaps rather too brusque.

“Lively day, Commander,” Nagihiko commented, ever the optimist and nodding in the direction of a group of townspeople who had come to a halt and gathered to stare in awe at the two expensive coaches.

Tadase replied reluctantly, half annoyed by such nonchalant chat during such an important matter. He turned to the purple-haired man and tried to speak in the most authoritative tone he could manage; “Fujisaki,” he began; “what was it your men summoned me for? I must admit, I am sceptical of gaining any knowledge of Her Highness’ disappearing act here.”

To Tadase’s surprise, Nagihiko let out a small chuckle. “As was I, Commander,” the man said and his jovial tone had begun to fade into something more serious; “but it appears that last night - at around the time Her Highness was expected at your home - the locals reported some rather worrying occurrences, sir.”

“Occurrences?” Tadase’s mind went back to the crates and sunflowers. He thought he knew what was coming. “”Fujisaki-”

“You’ve seen the state of the market here yourself, Commander.” Nagi stated. “At least eight establishments here have been ransacked, sir - picked clean all under cover of nightfall. I couldn’t recall every witness account, but I have heard from your local guards that several residents reported a large group of people alongside the waterfront-” - he gestured back to towards the town - “-and further behind us, sir, this group were spotted again making their way through your streets, towards the border.”

“And towards the road on which Her Highness was travelling.” Tadase mumbled softly, staring the way the guard was pointing. His brows knit firmly and a hand on his chin in thought, Tadase contemplated it all and wondered…

And then Nagihiko’s voice cut clean across his train of thought;

“A ship is said to have docked here last night, sir.”

Everything seemed so much quieter after that. The rattling of carts; the ringing of bells; the footsteps of passers-by and the cries of merchants all fell faint and distant on his ears. He understood. Such characteristic, wanton theft and plundering had not been seen about this coastline for many years and yet now...

Tadase had thought that he would’ve felt frozen - that he would have been so struck dead at the very notion that he would have never moved again; motionless and idle with grief and distraught. But instead he felt something take a hold inside his chest - something that was hard and stony and relentless. His fury became so raw that he almost couldn’t feel it at all. But, even so, it was still hard for him to swallow.

“Well then,” he said slowly, “It looks like we now know what we’re dealing with… I must say, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen a pirate hung in this town.”

As if sensing the man's struggling thought process, Nagi leant forwards; "It would appear so, Commander. These people are genuinely fearful… It has been so long since the last, sir." He glanced over at the empty shops and the boarded-up windows with a somewhat sorrowful look in his eye. Tadase almost admired it. Nagi held such a sympathy for even the poorest people that he had felt ever since he left the filthy, scummy streets as a teenager for something much more pleasant; something worthwhile that made him feel like he could do his part to protect those vulnerable peasants, however indirectly.

“They were stocking up provisions for their voyage…” Tadase said to himself and his tone was strong and unyielding. “I’ll bet my entire fortune that they knew Her Highness was coming that night..”

There was a period of quiet then. The noise from the locals still continued on in the background, yet it was all irrelevant. All the Commander could bring himself to pay attention to was the gentle whistle of the wind as it swept across the water's surface. It was a cool wind; a cleansing gust of air that had travelled the surface of the ocean - the _entire_ ocean, for in this direction there was nothing to intercept the surface of the waves until the nearest continent. Perhaps it had even passed the vessel which was currently holding Amu hostage. With that thought he turned his towards the workers still beside the quay. It was only now that he could fully understand the fear that gripped at their hearts. To share the sea with such creatures was enough to make any sailor tremble.It all made sense - all fit together like the pieces of a puzzle - and yet Nagi still seemed to tread with trepidation;

“With all due respect, Commander, how is it that they would have known?”

“They have their ways, the sneaky rats. We must find them immediately before they gain too much headway.” He said, relatively steadily, but his mind was beginning to cry;

_‘Where is she now? What have they done to her? Where have they taken her?’_

And, again;

_‘Amu. Amu. Amu.’_

“Perhaps, until then, I may speak with these sailors… How did these criminals manage to escape our sights so quickly?”

But then there was the far more pressing question;

_‘What do they want with the Princess of Seiyo?’_

Tadase looked now over the waterfront with a new sense of clarity. It all stood out - all those subtle little signs of disarray much bolder and more pressing than ever before. Stood at the edge of the quays, he shook his head, desperate, yet undefeated.

“Our Princess held hostage in the hands of pirates…” Tadase closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair. “God help us all.”

~.~.~

“His Majesty is ready to see you now, Commander Hotori.”

“Thank you.”

The servant gestured for Tadase to follow and led him through the mansion towards the largest dining hall where the two monarchs were finishing up with their afternoon meal. Tadase followed in silence; the blood rapidly pounding in his ears, drowning out all else - the sound of his footsteps upon the stone; the sound of cutlery and the stacking of plates; the little intakes of breath as his servants saw him approaching. He was nervous. Undeniably nervous. For all his years of bravery and service to the Crown, nothing had yet struck such anxiety in his heart.

He had told himself repeatedly that he should have been filled with a renewed sense of vigour. He should have been leaping and raring to set sail and scour every corner of the seven seas now that he truly understood the peril that his Princess found herself faced with. And, in his defence, Tadase _had_ felt those things - all of them! He had felt that heat in his veins and that strength in his spirit… And he would _still_ have felt those things if not for the fact that, in his haste to widen the search for his ex-fiancée, he had forgotten one _crucial_ thing.

He still had to tell the King.

King Tsumugu - ruler of an empire; leader of this great and glorious nation; father to Her Royal Highness Princess Amu Hinamori - was just on the other side of those looming double-doors up ahead, waiting impatiently to hear the outcome of the latest search of the town; wanting so fiercely to be given some reassurance that his daughter was still within arm’s reach… But, of course, it may have been that an entire ocean lay between him and his daughter. And Tadase would have to be the one to tell him that. He scolded himself; cursed himself for getting so swept away in the chaos that he had let something so greatly important slip his mind. 

Those ominous-looking doors were right in front of him before he had even realised it and, as they were slowly (so _painstakingly_ slowly!) pushed open by his servants, Tadase had to force himself to place one foot in front of the other. It was like trying to walk on a ship in a storm or through wet sand on the beach. It was truly not in his interests to face the fury of this angered father and the King’s hopeful smile when he eventually entered did nothing to improve the Commander’s confidence. There would be no way to break this news so easily. Yet it had to be done regardless.

“Tadase,” the King addressed him before he had even a chance to join them. “News.”

That one word was so heavily weighted with tension, but it was all that he needed to say. Tadase restlessly tapped the end of his staff against the floor a little more forcefully than needed. “It depends on the way you look at it, if I’m honest, Your Majesty.”

Tsumugu met his eyes. There inside lay the years’ worth of knowledge and wisdom and all the strength of leadership that had guided and secured the safety of the kingdom. “Have you found our daughter?”

There was an uncomfortable pause - all-consuming and stifling. Tadase swallowed thickly.

“I’m afraid not, Your Majesty.”

Tadase braced himself. He braced himself for the heat of the fire - for the clamour and the hurt and the pent-up temper of the King… But it was all for naught. Tsumugu, the light in his eyes dimming, simply nodded and the Commander saw then how truly grieved he must have been inside. He stole a glance at the Queen who - to his surprise - looked completely composed. Tired and pale, yes, but composed.

"I see." She said softly. "Well," Midori told her husband; "it's still early days as of yet." She sounded weary and weak and Tadase was positive that she hadn't slept. 

But, at the sight of their anguish, Tadase’s gaze softened. If there was one thing that could keep them going, he realised, it was that wonderful little thing called ' _hope'_. Yes, Amu may have been far from home, but it was not as though they or any other man loyal to the Crown were about to sit idly by and leave her to her fate. Tadase had connected the dots; seen the evidence in the town himself and he knew that he would be about to embark on a grand hunt for buccaneer blood. He _would_ , he told himself, and with that thought that drive to get out there into the world and hunt down those barbarous pirates - that energy he had told himself to feel much earlier on - hit him like the bullet he would use to strike down any criminal who had dared to lay such filthy hands on the Princess of Seiyo. They could run, but they could not hide, he told himself. They would be hunted down like the dogs they were and would meet the swift hand of justice.

The Commander stepped forward, voice firm as he felt this concentrated vigour surging through his veins. "But, as I said, Your Majesty," he began; "it very much depends on how you look at things." Tsumugu's attention fully caught, Tadase took a breath and continued. Though he felt that motivation he needed to aid Her Highness, he was still aware that the King's reaction could go either way. "This morning your guard, Fujisaki, and I visited the dockside. The night your daughter left the palace, it appears that these villains responsible raided a number of local buildings. I’m sure you will agree with me, sir, that it appears frighteningly similar to events that occurred in this town many years ago.”

“Commander,” Midori’s blank, empty expression shattered. She leaned forwards in her seat, her face fearful and frantic. “Our daughter was…”

“Yes, Your Majesty.” he nodded gravely. “Pirates.”

A silence enshrouded the table. The King’s jaw slackened; a vein in his temple quivering. “What… What evidence..?”

Tadase, perhaps too boldly, but too caught in the flow of his explanation to care, leaned closer to the King, resting on the staff in his hands. “I have spoken to the sailors of this town. There are rumours of a new ship frequenting their waters - the fishermen in particular speak of it with such terror…” he trailed off for a moment as he remembered the way the workers had shaken, speaking of a large frigate with sails made out of shadows and a shining diamond on her transom that pierced the dead of night. "But, from what I've learnt," he continued; "is that this ship was last spotted in the area the night your daughter disappeared. Your Majesty, I don't know about yourselves, but I find this far beyond coincidental. And, what's more, think back to the bullet wound described upon the unfortunate horseman," - a pause to let the King rewind his memory before he made his point - "A buccan is known for his extraordinary shot. And, well, the manner in which Her Highness' abduction took place - those dogs are notorious for their sneaky ambushes. It appears that they're as cunning on land as they are at sea."

“Yes…” Tsumugu nodded, though he looked as though he was speaking from another planet. Then he stood, his chair screeching deafeningly behind him and turned to Tadase with a look of stone, his voice like the clamour of a tidal wave; “Send out the Royal Navy. Send out the fleets; every man-of-war; every officer that can be spared. I will order a search of the seas - every sea! I shall enter foreign waters if I must - I shall _truce_ in the hopes of aid if I must!”

“Your Majesty!” Tadase intervened as the King stood panting, gasping for air in his sudden madness. “Do not worry, Your Majesty - I will see to it that the search for Her Highness is carried out properly.” And he turned on his heel to leave;

“I’ll be gathering my finest crew and setting out ahead of time.”

~.~.~

Finally. _Relief!_ Relief from hours and hours spent scrubbing and kneeling; bending and toiling and getting lost in the galley in search of spare rope…

But, at last, the day was drawing to a close. A starless night was beginning to fall; the breeze lifting; and their workload lessening. Apparently, as Amu was astounded to learn, a tidy deck was highly valued amongst these outlaws - almost as highly valued as it was back at the palace where maids glided along gleaming, stone corridors and scrubbed exquisite mosaic tiles and dusted chandeliers and, for the first time in her entire life, Amu was starting to understand how her often underappreciated servants must have felt. Her body ached, her hands were red, her dress stained… She had thought perhaps that scrubbing the decks would have been a meagre task and that, with any luck, she might have possibly slipped away for a quiet hour or two; away from these rogues who held her hostage. But no, her day was quite the opposite.

And so, after a lengthy first full day (and a full day it was, for it had been hours since the sun had dipped below the horizon), Amu had been positively _relieved_ to be told that her day was done and that she was free to finish on the quarterdeck and make her way back to her cabin. If she had been but a little more delirious in her exhaustion, she she might have been tempted to give the speaker a hug instead of the simple 'thank you' which she deemed not appropriate enough to fully express her delight, but instead had simply wandered aft and inside, ready to collapse into her bedding and forget about her situation for just a moment – just enough, anyway, to fall into a peaceful slumber.

The lighting was dim; the corridor illuminated by a single flickering flame that danced atop a messy, awkward lump of wax and wick beside the doors behind her. She made an effort to slam them shut before the nightly chill could snuff the spark out and leave her drowned in darkness, for in this darkness, Amu thought that the shadows had lives of their own. They leapt and frolicked about the empty space hauntingly like tricksters of the night. They swirled and twirled in the night air tauntingly - _teasingly_ as spirits who wished to make her head spin and heart race until she broke down and screamed out (a desperate, heart-wrenching _scream!_ ) for release of their torment. To tell the truth, things seemed to be on the tricksters' side, she realised, as the shifting light melded with that continuous, never-ending rise and fall of the ship; dizzying and disorientating as she had been upon first waking on this vessel. The sleep deprivation; the fatigue; a trick of the eyes and the unexpected movement…

A wave hit the bow of the Shining Black and Amu stumbled forwards, slumping against a door to her left.

_"Lord, just let me rest."_

With her prayer whispered into the silence Amu firmly grasped the handle of the door, shifting the weight she had supported up against the frame, and twisted. A heavy, bitter feeling of disappointment rose. The handle wouldn’t turn. She huffed. She didn't know where Ikuto was, but surely he would have known to unlock her cabin for her to return to unless, for some reason, he felt the need to make her life significantly harder in some way. Amu growled lowly at the thought and yanked on the handle, harder this time, but still to no avail and in her foggy, hazed mind uttered a particularly foul curse towards whoever had decided to keep her cabin door locked.

She growled in frustration; burnt-out and dissatisfied. Without thinking, she rose a fist and, with a surprising amount of strength, began to pound loudly on the door.

"Come on," she muttered.

_BANG!_

"Come _on!”_

_BANG, BANG, BA-_

_**"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU LOT TO GO AWAY!"** _

The Princess froze. Blinking once; twice; three times, Amu lowered her balled fist and shook her head, staring dumbfounded at the door mere inches from her nose. Had she become so horribly weary that now even her ears were playing dirty tricks on her? Had the cabin fever truly begun to kick in?

But that sudden voice - so sharp and piercing as the blade of a new knife - had flared up from behind the cabin door had been so very _real_ and threatening… Was it still nothing more than a hallucination? Amu wondered if the tricksters that still flew across the walls, their presence as foreboding and as eerie as deathly spirits, had played a part. Her tongue threatened to stutter and stumble over the words it was made to form, but she managed forced out a wavering, startled;

"I'm- I’m _sorry?"_

_**"LEAVE!"**_ The voice was back and cutting as it had been before. _"LEAVE BEFORE I COME OUT THERE AND STRING YOU TO THE SPARS!"_

"A-! I'm-I'm sorry!" Amu gasped out, shaking her head as if to rid herself of the sleepy fog that had shrouded her brain. "I thought that this was my cabin!" she added as if it would help her case, stepping back from the stranger's door and turning to reach her own (because now that her mind was clearer, she seemed to remember her cabin being on the right-hand side of the corridor and, looking at the situation now, noticed that she was on the left) when another utterance stopped her in her tracks.

"Wait." The voice ordered.

Perhaps against her better judgement, Amu did.

With an ear-splitting creak that rivalled those produced by the Shining Black herself and the screech of a rusty lock, the door was opened - slowly; gently; cautiously. Amu stepped back and watched with curiosity.

Blonde hair; sharp features and with all the hesitancy of a timid mouse, a woman poked her head out and into the passageway. Cautious and careful, yes, though her eyes - her eyes alive with some sort of fierce emotion, even if they did occasionally dart from side to side or up and down erratically - they seemed to scream ‘unwelcome visitor’. Amu tip-toed back an inch. She felt as though they would burn her if she got too close. And she didn’t doubt that she could find herself in trouble if she wasn’t careful. She wasn't much taller than Amu and she looked slim, yet wearied, but she carried a demeanour that reminded the heiress very much of some sort of wild animal; a jaguar perhaps - beautiful and stunning, but with a ferocity and power so strong (if the life within her lilac eyes was anything to go by) that she could fight tooth and nail if need be.

But despite all this, the thing which Amu found to hit her the hardest was simply the fact that there was another woman on board.

A woman.

Didn't pirates deem it to be unlucky to sail with a woman aboard? In the short time she had spent on the Shining Black, Amu had only been in the company of men - tough buccaneers hardened by sun and sea salt and the steel of their swords - but she had never found even a trace of other females amongst the crew. And, in the dark of the corridor and the dancing of the pathetic candlelight, it send a sense of alarm through her fatigued body. She recalled those tales of mayhem that drifted in the wake of the ship - all those rumours and stories of people gone missing, snatched in the dead of night. What if Captain Ichinomiya was keeping more women aboard? What if it had not been just her? What if she was but another in a long line of successful kidnappings..?

_'What kind of ghastly purpose does he have in keeping us on his ship?'_

She looked the stranger in the eye. For how long had she been kept here? How had she come to be here at all?

The woman, lightly brushing dull golden tresses from the side of her face and mumbling quietly to herself, looked Amu up and down, her eyes performing a thorough examination of this new recruit - from the hem of her sodden skirts to the top of her pink head.

"I thought we had a newcomer on board…" she whispered, the words but a breeze of air. She initiated eye contact and Amu was at a loss for words. With nothing to say, she stood and waited.

"Your Highness…" the woman started, her voice softer now. "Correct?"

Amu blinked before nodding slowly. "Yes." She nodded again. "Yes..."

The blonde lowered herself for a split second in a gesture that was almost a bow. "It's a pleasure." She said quickly. "My name is Utau."

The Princess smiled gently at the introduction. She could not describe how it felt to exchange with a woman amongst countless males. "Amu." She said, though it was quite unnecessary, she was sure.

Utau had opened her mouth to reply… But then, all of a sudden, her body froze over. Those eyes - so freely flickering with wild flames - were wide and fearful. She pressed herself into the doorframe, one hand on the door as if to slam it shut.

_"Come in."_ she said abruptly.

Amu, puzzled, was about to protest when she heard it - heard the scuffling outside the doorway to the deck; saw the darkened silhouettes through the windows; saw them stumbling drunkenly forwards.

"Uh- I-I- Um, I'm not supposed to have any contact with any members of the crew!" she stammered weakly as Utau began to beckon her into the cabin. "Captain's orders!"

But, unfortunately, Utau wasn’t fazed;

"Don't worry about the Captain."

It was an odd statement, Amu thought. In fact, 'odd' was probably an understatement to say the very least. How could she bring herself to not worry about the Captain who held the crew in a vice-like grip, playing on fear and torment to keep them in line? He had dragged her aboard this God-forsaken craft; thrown her into the cabin across the hallway; he had made her stare down the barrel of a gun; had locked her up and sailed off into the sunset for whatever reason… Yet here was this woman - this young, mysterious woman - telling her to not worry about Captain Ichinomiya or the consequences, all within sight of his cabin door. No, the thought had her all light-headed. She couldn't do it. She may have allowed herself to socialise with Kukai, but to break the Captain's rules only feet away from his own cabin felt like something entirely different. So, _dearest_ apologies to this woman and her words of reassurance but she just couldn't.

But then the awful low thud of boots and the barks of harsh laughter as the silhouettes met the doors resounded through the little corridor and Amu's resistance shattered like a crystal glass; into a million fine pieces and sent flying across the floorboards, left there in a small sand-like pile as she scurried into the safety of the cabin.

It was dark, but warm and offered a sense of security much unlike anything else Amu had felt whilst aboard this ship. That little box of confinement that was her cabin was sterile in comparison to this place. A small assortment of jewellery sat atop the dresser inside a beautifully carved box; a gleaming mirror hung above the dresser; the covers on the bed were faded, but dyed in various colours and a few scarves had been tied to one of the bedposts. It wasn't much, but it was still far more homely than in Amu's own room.

Amu glanced over at the woman who was busily securing a variety of different locks and bolts and seemingly ancient latches that were so stiff to move that her knuckles were as white as snow. They lined the doorframe - all different shapes and sizes and ages as if they'd been collected and grouped together from many different places - bolted randomly along the wood. The Princess watched in fascination until the woman let out a satisfied sound of triumph before going back to her guest.

"I must apologise." she muttered, though she didn’t sound the least bit sorry. "Just- Just a few minutes… Until they go..." And she glanced back anxiously at the door as if all her security wasn’t enough.

"Really, you shouldn't worry!" Amu interrupted, putting on a polite smile and dismissing everything with the wave of a hand. "Anyway," she continued; "you said your name was Utau, right?"

Utau nodded wordlessly.

"It's good to meet you, Utau." She said. "Actually, I'm very surprised to find another woman aboard."

"I'm sure," Utau answered, moving over to the table and sitting down. Amu followed suit. "I haven't been on deck recently. But, no, I'm here. You were brought here… Two nights ago, am I right?" - a nod in response - "I thought I heard something about that…" She trailed off a little and Amu didn't miss the way she glanced warily in the direction of the firmly locked door. It was only for a second though and was gone as quickly as it had appeared. "I have to wonder what you must think of this ship, Your Highness."

The Princess felt like sinking back into her chair. How could she convey her first impressions accurately to this woman?

"Well…" she began uncertainly. "I… I can't say. I don't know this ship. I'm not used to it… Your Captain is terrifying and there are some members of the crew whom I'm sure do not wish me to be here… But, still, I'm also sure that people have been watching at me with pity when they think I'm not looking. I don't blame them," she admitted, distracted, following her finger with her eyes as it ran along the grain of the wooden table, tracing imaginary circles and patterns carelessly into the surface; "I think if I were one of them I would pity any stranger my Captain abducted. To tell the truth, I'm not really sure how I got here. I was just travelling one minute and then…" she shrugged uselessly, confused and frightened and wishing that she could forget encounter on that lonesome little dirt road in the dead of night; "then it all seemed to go horribly wrong…"

From across the table Utau watched in silence as Amu was rendered silent, trailing off into her own puzzled thoughts, and the blonde nearly nodded to herself. She was sure, positive in fact, that most of the crew pitied her. Looking at her in a situation like this, she almost did too. Almost.

"It is true that if you're not used to being aboard a ship - much less a pirate ship of all things - then it can be quite nerve-wracking." She replied quietly. "I remember what it was like back then - back when I first came here."

At this Amu's head bobbed back up to make eye contact. "So…" she was tempted to tip-toe around the subject, but of course her curiosity had taken hold of her and she asked quite plainly; "So how long have you been on this ship?"

Utau's body became rigid. She broke the eye contact and glanced away, reluctant. Amu shrunk back again, embarrassed. How rude could she possibly be? She shook her head and decided to try and undo the damage that had already been done. "It-It doesn't matter, you don't ha-"

"My mother, brother and I have been here for almost an entire decade."

Amu was stunned into silence.

_'A decade?'_

And then fear struck as she wondered how long _she_ might have to remain with the crew and the Captain of the Shining Black.

Utau didn't seem to notice the sudden panic that was taking a hold of her cabin guest and the mention of her family had sparked a memory in the back of her mind. She eyed the newcomer almost suspiciously, uttering quite bluntly; "You appear to be relatively familiar with my brother, Ikuto."

Taken aback, Amu didn't catch the bitterness of that statement. "You and Ikuto are _related?"_

Utau nodded stiffly. Taken by surprise, Amu found herself compelled to ask more. After all, she didn't know Ikuto, not really. The thought that he had a sister only across the corridor from her was quite astounding, for she'd never really thought much about the possibility of him having blood relatives close by and it was strange to place that sort of attachment between him and the woman sitting across the table from her.

"N-No way! He never mentioned-"

The sudden glare from the woman across the table silenced her.

And now Amu felt that horrible emotion known as guilt begin to tug at her heart. Why was she so foolish? Why was she so driven to ask such things of a person she had barely met ten minutes ago? She liked to think that it was healthy to have a degree of natural curiosity, but, truthfully, it was something that she would come to regret many more times in the near future.

"I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-”

Utau snapped with all the ferocity of a wild dog; "I wouldn't expect someone such as you to understand, Your Highness."

She wished now that she'd considered following the Captain's rules. No interaction with the crew... Perhaps it was for the best if she limited her contact with Utau for a good long while.

"It's getting late." The blonde suddenly declared, standing up so fast that the chair scraped painfully loudly on the surface of the planks. From the desk drawer she went to retrieve a thick silver chain from which multiple keys were hung. She held it up to the light. "I would appreciate it if you would keep quiet about this, Princess."

Amu watched as the silver glinted in the low light. She didn’t doubt that Utau was not meant to have them. 

Clearly Utau would find herself in deep trouble should anyone find her with copies of the ship’s keys. Knowing Captain Ichinomiya, her life would probably be in considerable peril. Amu would never say anything, but the look she received as she awkwardly followed her out through the door and into the corridor was one of clear distrust. She did not want to cause any more damage that day - especially not when her fatigue was finally starting to catch up with her again.

"Thank you, Utau." She said politely as her cabin was opened up for her.

She stepped inside and went to apologise once more. Utau slammed the door shut, leaving Amu to shamefully hang her head and slink away into the desolate silence.

~.~.~


	9. Nine

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

Amu felt the shudder of bootsteps on planks long before Ikuto appeared above her, but, she didn’t even bother looking up at him. She heard his voice, low and lazy;

“Your Highness,”

She ignored him. It had been an odd sort of day already, she thought, and she felt as though her positive attitude with which she had resolved to work was dwindling. Amu had had barely any sleep the night before, rather she had been left to lie awake, tossing and turning and scolding herself for the way she had behaved towards Utau… Utau. That mysterious girl locked away behind her cabin door… Utau who had been so afraid of being seen; who had been kept aboard this ship for ten years; whose business she had unkindly and unreasonably pried into. The guilt still ate at her deep down.

_“Amu,”_

The toll of this situation was starting to grow on her, she thought. Not to mention the fact that she still hurt from head to toe; she was hungry and hot and that Ikuto was starting to infuriate her!

“Hey,” one scuffed boot reached out and prodded her brush. “Are we still here?”

Finally, with no other option but to acknowledge him, Amu looked up, shielding her eyes from the light of the sun. His looming figure was but a blue silhouette against the sky.

“Ikuto, what do you want?” she grumbled, shaking her wet hands out on her skirt (not that it mattered much anymore - it was filthy now anyway) and hoping he wasn’t going to make her get up. Her legs had been rendered numb and stiff long ago after hours upon hours of kneeling and leaning against these hardwood floors and if she tried to get up now she would only make a fool of herself.

“My,” the man hummed, folding his lanky arms and smirking down mockingly at her; “Someone not in a pleasant mood this afternoon?”

_‘The balls on this guy’_ , she thought angrily. Amu clambered awkwardly to her feet, her joints moaning in protest, and glared up at him. “Well _perhaps_ if you hadn’t gotten my day off to a bad start!” she snapped; “I thought I’d already told you - _knock_ next time before you barge into my cabin, won’t you?”

“In my defence, I knocked,” Ikuto replied cooly; “you were just too busy snoring to hear me.”

_“Wha-?”_ Amu opened her mouth to fire back a torrent of abuse, but she stopped herself, pursing her lips and averting her gaze. It would do no good, she thought. To reduce herself to their level would have been low of her indeed. Besides, she found herself unable to shake the nagging feeling that she was being toyed with and the very thought of entertaining him had her positively riled.

So, instead, she kept her mouth shut and simply waited for him to go on. Ikuto gestured towards the aftercastle with a nod of the head; “You’ve been summed, Your Highness.” He said simply. “The Captain wishes to see you in his cabin.”

All ire gone, Amu froze on the spot, the gravity of that little statement hitting her hard because, surely, a summons from Captain Kazuomi Ichinomiya would have anyone quaking in their boots. “I’m- I’m sorry?”

“Just get a move on.” Ikuto told her and his voice was now monotone - now that blank, indifferent way of his that was starting to irritate her just a little bit. It was always one way or the other with him, she’d noticed. It was always either teasing or detached - no in-between - and for the life of her she couldn’t think why.

“Come on,” he said, firmer now, as she realised that she was still stood motionless on the deck of the ship. She almost jumped. “I told you to get a move on. The Captain doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

That was all the explanation she needed. She scampered towards him like a timid little mouse and the two of them made their way up to the quarterdeck. There was an uneasy, tense silence, but Amu wasn’t sure if it was even worth breaking. She glanced over at Ikuto with his posture slack and his shoulders hunched, his hands shoving into his pockets and she wondered if he was simply annoyed at being sent to drag himself out onto the deck just to fetch Captain Ichinomiya’s hostage - some small, pitiful girl who was feeling increasingly lonesome and somewhat foolish under all this silent treatment she had been getting from the rest of the crew. Whether by Captain’s orders or not, she didn’t know, but what she did know was that for some reason she was being slowly and solely siphoned away from the other shipmates. There were some of them - much larger, stockier, more threatening men aboard this ship who she was sure had been trying to keep her away from the others. Put to work in isolated spots; shoved down below when the lower decks were empty… When Kukai had tried to talk to her this morning, he was quickly sent up into the nettings. And then they’d stood a short distance away watching over her, silently deterring anyone else from approaching.

At least, so they had until Ikuto emerged and then (probably understanding that he’d been sent by the Captain) they’d wandered off without a word to lend a hand elsewhere. It was strange. It was all above her head. It made her feel on-edge; self-conscious, but also it made her wonder… Had the Captain made that much of an effort to capture her? Surely if he had, wouldn’t the crew be more enthusiastic with her here amongst them? Shouldn’t they have been horribly pleased with themselves? Taunting her and threatening her, perhaps, but certainly not avoiding her as though she were some sort of foreign disease that would have them all on their backs within the hour. Ikuto may have spoken to her when his father asked, but, deep down, Amu was beginning to feel as though she was more of a burden to him - a task or unwanted pet; an unnecessary load that the crew of this God-forsaken ship now had to drag across the entire ocean, letting her waste their supplies and take up their cabins and who needed someone's supervision unless they wanted their Captain’s rapier between their ribs.

Although, it wasn’t that Amu felt guilty about being an inconvenience to the corsairs aboard this ship. No, if the Captain had chosen to keep her, then that was _his_ problem, but she still couldn’t help but think about Ikuto. Ikuto who was now troubled with the task of watching over her each day - most probably a deliberately tedious task cooked up for him by his heartless father, no doubt. She felt as though she was being used against him… And he looked so weary from where she stood. Having someone so unwilling to do such things for her was a new experience - the servants back at the palace had been completely different; always grovelling at her feet and kissing the ground she walked on.

_‘Good Lord,’_ she sighed to herself then. If she had been reduced to such a sorry, shameful state within just a few days of captivity, then Amu dreaded the mental state she’d end up in by the time she left.

But, as it turned out, this nightmare was still only just beginning as the Princess once again found herself faced with the door to Captain Ichinomiya’s cabin. Subconsciously, Amu reached for her neck… And then remembered that her locket wasn’t there. Ikuto was watching her out of the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable.

And then the mask dropped and Amu was treated to her first taste of whatever lay between mocking and aloof.

“Keep cool.” he breathed.

It was short and simple, but it was enough. It was something to make her feel as though she wasn’t just disappearing into the background - something that made her feel as though she was being acknowledged as a person. Not a hostage; not a Princess; not a burden who should be avoided. A _person._

Meanwhile, Ikuto rapped his knuckles against the door and grabbed the handle and Amu swallowed drily.

What did the Captain want her for?

~.~.~

The atmosphere was astonishingly calm in the dining hall that afternoon as the Hotori family and Amu’s parents sat surrounded by the various Captains and noble servicemen of Tadase’s fleet. Before them lay a great feast; a wide selection of meats and greens and other, interestingly-coloured dishes lay spread across the table, though Tadase wasn’t sure he had the stomach to each such a meal. Every mouthful he thought might remind him of the fact that Amu, wherever she was, was denied such luxury. He wondered what she was being forced to live on… If indeed she was being fed at all.

This, it seemed, was affecting the King far less than him as His Majesty leisurely sampled a mix of exotic fruits and turned to the blond to his right. “Tadase, I must say I am truly reassured.” He briefly looked to his wife who nodded in agreement. “Your determination and dedication displayed here today has greatly put out minds at ease - for the meantime, at least, but I don’t doubt that you, sir, are the best person I could have entrusted this investigation with.”

Tadase, though flattered, was about to simply smile and, in the most modest manner possible, insist that this was a mere stepping-stone in the whole process, but before he could so much as open his mouth he found himself being toasted by the King himself and the rest of the guests seated at the grand table raised their glasses, echoing his name. Crystal glassware chinked and the shrill sound sliced through his ears almost painfully, but as they all took a drink and showed such praise, the Commander found himself unable to protest and instead gave His Majesty a grateful look.

"Thank you, Your Majesty." He replied and, as he glanced round the table, it occurred to him that with all these people - all these noble men; all these officers; even his parents sat by his side - placing such immense faith in him it would truly be not only humiliating, but also upsetting for him to return in some months' time after such a grand voyage of many expectations empty-handed and with no Princess or so much as a pirate to hang in tow. He saw the eyes of the King filled with hope and pride and he could almost hear the little voice in his head saying; "Yes. Yes, this is the man who will save my daughter and slay the criminals - and what a better decision could I have made?"

For a fleeting moment, Tadase almost felt that it was unreasonable - truly unreasonable for Amu's own father to place all the responsibility in her rescue on someone else, however it soon hit him that, had Tsumugu not laid such trust in him himself, he would still have insisted in leading the way. From the very start he had jumped to try and reach out to his Princess and by no means was he about to stop right now…

But it did make him wonder; _'Just how much blind faith will the King of Seiyo have in me?'_

Perhaps it was some sort of test, Tadase figured - a test of courage and will and drive to protect the country's future Queen. Perhaps not, but, for the time being, he would let it go. There was a great task on his hands and so he nodded reassuringly and said;

"Have no fear, Her Highness will be found and brought back home safe and sound and those responsible shall swing in the executioner's noose, for all I care, so long as they receive the justice they deserve." There were claps and murmurs of agreement amongst the guests. "As it is," he continued; "we have gathered much of the supplies and other essentials needed for our naval forces - all that is needed is to ensure our vessels are seaworthy and our spirits strong and we shall leave these docks by the end of the week!”

"Excellent!" Tsumugu abandoned his cutlery and empty plate and sat back comfortably in his chair, impressed with the speed at which the Commander had been able to get everything together. "Fine crafts, Commander?"

The blond man nodded firmly. "The finest Seiyo's navy has to offer, Your Majesty."

"Thank you, Commander." Midori almost beamed at him with a gleeful little twinkle of hope in her kind eyes and, more than ever, Tadase knew that he would not allow himself to let down this dear, compassionate woman. "Where to do begin your journey, may I ask?"

"Well…" Tadase began, sounding almost weary. Trying to pinpoint a single craft in the entire ocean… It was a gargantuan task. "For a start, we have been in contact with various naval crafts, gathering reports of pirate vessels - where and when they were sighted; where they may be headed; what, if obvious, motives they have... We aim to pursue as many of these sightings as we can. As you can probably understand, Your Majesty, there cannot be a set destination until we've already set sail." At the pause that followed he decided to continue and add; "But, as it happens, we do have a vague description of the type of ship we're looking for - and vague it may be, but I believe this is our target." He once again remembered the terrified merchant sailors and that eerie image of the mystery ship in the fog - the chill creeping up his spine as vines on brick; as frost on a winter’s night; the kind of chill that reaches the soul and stiffens the heart. "We know that she is a frigate - not of terribly high status, but a frigate nonetheless. Three masts and full-rigged; dark sails; no name on her stern to identify her…"

And, of course, he remembered; that diamond that shone white in the darkness.

The Commander was now trailing off, becoming drawn into his own thoughts as he pictured the elusive ship. Why dark sails? Why no name? _Why_ Amu Hinamori? It didn't make sense…

But, even more curiously, it was then that Tadase’s own mother beside him raised her voice for the first time that afternoon. “Dark sails, Tadase?” Mizue frowned deeply and twiddled her fingers - a nervous habit that Tadase was ashamed to say he had started to pick up. “How have you found this out?”

Tadase glowered, the heat in his heart suddenly flaring. Did she not trust him? “The fishermen who berth at our docks, mother,” he said simply. “They tell such disturbing tales.”

“Far more disturbing than tales I’ve heard.” And to Tadase’s horror, his father leaned forwards, exchanging glances with his wife.

Tadase felt himself bristling, his cheeks heating up. Tsumugu and Midori were listening with interest now - barely noticing as their plates were taken and as their guests began to slowly rise from their seats and make their leave into the drawing room. But his parents stayed seated with their Majesties, looking about ready to counter all he’d said. What were they _doing_ , he thought? Were they _trying_ to embarrass him in front of the King? Did they not believe him when he said he had spent so much time down by the docks, comforting and listening to those cowering sailors in the hopes of gaining information?

But, as they went on, Tadase came to realise their concerns.

“We have heard whispers, Tadase,” so his father had said to him at that table and, as much as it infuriated him, it was not long before even Tadase could not ignore them - those little murmurs that lay as an undertone to the everyday hustle and bustle of life in this little town. He heard it almost immediately; once he had said farewell to his guests and as he went about his way through his home. His servants were conversing in little groups in corners; they were pausing in their duties to hearken at one another; exchanging gossip. He even caught Rima that afternoon stopping on her way to the kitchens as a fellow handmaid tapped her on the shoulder with a hasty;

_“Miss, Miss, have you heard?”_

And so, without further question, he summoned her to his study.

With a certain poise and air of dignity despite her lowly status, Rima entered, closing the door behind her and bowed her head. Nagihiko and Amu were right, he thought, when they said that she looked like a little China doll, but there was something about her that was also respectable and steadfast and, for that. Tadase almost admired her.

“Rima,” he felt free to address her so casually behind closed doors as he rose from his seat and stood by the window.

“Commander,” she bowed her head again with reverence. “And,” she tried her very best to hide a grimace, her teeth grit together. “Fujisaki.”

Sat off to the side, the guard shot her a pleasant grin that reached his eyes. “Miss Mashiro,” he said lightly; “thank you for seeing us so soon.”

“Yes, Fujisaki,” she almost rolled her eyes, thoroughly displeased as he too stood from his chair and instantly towered over her. She loathed the way she was forced to crane her neck just to look him in the eye and, much more, the way he found some sort of strange amusement from it; the way he would always be sure to bend down as if to exaggerate the distance between their heights. But was to be no teasing today - no jokes at her expense nor any behaviour that she would deem 'funny' from the guard. Tadase cut across them. His voice snapped the two of them back to reality.

“Rima,” he rose his voice; “I need to ask you… These rumours…”

The maid’s expression hardened. Tadase took it as a step in the right direction;

“I have heard them. I have heard that the people of this town are in disarray - that there is great confusion amongst them! I’ve heard that they say that Her Highness is safe - or otherwise beyond saving. I have heard that we should search for ships with sails not as black as shadow, but as pure and crisp as snow or stained red with blood; that we waste our efforts in finding the Princess; that all will be well and that Her Highness will appear before us again of her own accord in time.” He shook his blond head and, from his window, he could just descry in the distance the jumbled rooftops and towers and spires of their town - stood bold and strong against the blue sky. “And only this afternoon from my guards do I hear that all manner of unexplained sightings of her have been reported! She has been seen in the Capital! In the border islands between continents! She’s been north to south and everywhere in-between in the past day alone! I have listened to these voices.” he said, gravely now and staring back at her with the most demanding demeanour he could muster. “But where do they come from?”

Rima was silent for a moment. She took a gentle breath and absently twirled the end of one golden lock on the end of her finger and answered quietly; “The truth is,” she began; “that what I can tell you now is still but a rumour itself. I can’t explain to you how rumours come about. Most of them are twisted and tainted along the way, irreparable… But I believe that they have all started in the same place…”

~.~.~

And so that was how Tadase found himself sat beside the King, being jostled about in their coach as they rolled towards the mansion that sat on the clifftop.

There was a man, so it turned out, that lived in this mansion who would read the stars and offer help to those who asked for it; a man who had spread words of comfort and reassurance throughout the town since Her Highness’ disappearance. “A wise man,” Rima had said; “a good man. He has been known for his work for years - helped many missing souls return to their families safely before. And, what’s more, he’s respectable; held in high regard by the townspeople.”

And, with some persuasion, it seemed that that was that.

“I would be mistaken,” the King said, back in their coach, for the upteenth time that day; “if I said it was not my business as the King and Amu’s father to speak with this man myself.”

Tadase had to agree, but he remained silent. There was a disquiet in his heart - a discord; an unsettling sort of clenching in his stomach that gnawed away at all his certainty and all his inner strength. He did not know what to expect once they reached the end of that road. He did not know what they were expecting to accomplish. He thought perhaps that his King was hoping for some sort of reassurance from a stranger who dealt in riddles and suggestion - who was more at home among the astral plains than on earth - and he was uneasy. As if ashamed that their trip may only serve to give the King false hope, Tadase averted his gaze and stared out the window at the faint outline of the house upon the headland, surrounded by swirling gulls and the sound of the roaring surf, crashing mercilessly into the rocks below.

It was not long before they were stood outside this mystery man’s mansion, footsteps crunching on the gravel as they made their way toward the door. They were enclosed by tall hedgerows and little bushes of white flowers and Tadase had to take a moment - just one moment to himself to stop and stare up at this fine building with awe. White in the sun; twisted columns; arches above windows; intricate, swirling carvings lining the smooth stone about the porch and balconies… It was possibly a finer example of architecture and craftsmanship than the Hotori’s own mansion. Lost in the wonder of such a place, Tadase didn’t notice the King march up, surrounded by his guards as dogs surround their master, and raised his fist to knock.

Yet he was but an inch away from the door when it swung open.

“Good afternoon, Your Majesty,”

Calm, soft and steady was the voice of their mystery man as he bowed low and respectfully in the doorway. As he straightened, the Commander finally caught his first glimpse of that curious fortune-teller who for years to come would remain an enigma in his thoughts. The composure; the serenity of his features; the tranquility of his voice… All would irritate him in time - all about this man would confuse and rile and _infuriate_ him…

But, for now, Tadase just stood in silence and watched as the man stepped aside and gestured for the group to enter his home.

“Welcome,” he said, his voice like the warmth of soft, spring sunlight; “My name is Tsukasa Amakawa. I’ve been expecting you.”

~.~.~


	10. Ten

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

Amu was thoroughly unnerved to see Captain Ichinomiya’s mouth form a wry grin as she and Ikuto entered the dingy cabin. Sat comfortably in that ever-filthy chair at his desk, Kazuomi sneered up at them as they approached.

_“Thank you,_ Ikuto,” he drew out each syllable with such mocking and contempt that it completely overshadowed any hint of praise for his son. Amu hadn’t been expecting any sort of fond, fatherly behaviour from him at all and yet it still took her by surprise. She was eyeing the man warily as he gestured for her to take a seat in the rickety little chair across from him. “Your Highness, please, take a seat. I have been expecting you.”

Without hesitation, Amu did as she was told, dipping her head just to avoid his gaze. “Of course, Captain.”

Amu tried not to grimace as her skin touched the dusty, near-decayed wood of the chair - squeaking shrilly and pocked with wormholes - rather, she tried her best to maintain whatever sense of royal dignity she had; drew up her chin and held back her shoulders, for all the world a perfect picture of poise and elegance before this uncivilised barbarian. She thought that, for a second, he was fighting back a dark chuckle, but she just remained silent and waited for whatever the man had to say.

It was starting to torment her - the way he stared at her from across the desk with those eyes; so serious and cold and focused the way they latched onto her own and studied her almost curiously, as though searching for something; examining her for something, though she could not guess what and she inwardly squirmed. She felt transparent. She felt as though he could just lean over his desk and delve into the depths of her brain; pick at her soul and wander through her head as leisurely as a man might stroll through a garden or city street. She felt like he could do whatever he wanted; take out whatever he wanted; twist anything he wished to twist. It felt as though he could do all of this and then see straight past her - right through to the other side of the cabin where Ikuto, as always, patiently stood by the door. He looked as though he was struggling to maintain that mask of his. He was curious too, she thought, and that only made her more concerned. She had assumed that Ikuto was privy to all of the Captain’s doings… But obviously not. And that was worrying.

“Your Highness,” the Captain began after a long period of tense quiet; “I trust you now have a feel for our ship. She’s a fine vessel, is she not?”

Unsure of how to respond and unsure of where exactly the man was intending to go with this, Amu nodded stiffly. “Yes, Captain.”

“Ah, but of course she is!” he exclaimed, his voice cracking. He absently took a glug of something strong from the mug on the corner of his desk. “This Shining Black has taken me around the world, almost, Princess. Across the _entire_ globe! To the great borders of Seiyo; to the chill of the northern continent; to the sun-scorched deserts of the south-east…” The Captain took a quick glance out of the cabin window and cast his eyes over the rolling, blue hills of the ocean in remembrance of all the journeys that this Shining Black had made across the great waters and, for a moment, Amu could really tell that, aside from all else, this was a weathered, old salt with all the experience and knowledge of a first-class sailor if ever she saw one. Perhaps she would have felt some sort of newfound respect for the man (however small an amount that respect may have been), but, as it was, she was sat across from him as a hostage; not as a Princess nor a commoner, not even merely a fellow human being. She was a captive who had been unwillingly and cunningly taken from her home and for that she could only view Kazuomi with contempt as he continued on with an edge to his voice that suggested something sinister at play behind the cause of their little meeting. She could only wait uncertainly as he went on;

"I've seen the great trade markets of the orient and I have seen the lush tropics and the surf crash upon foreign shores… I've watched my lads run to her as she sits on the water - a beacon for them if ever there was one, I daresay! She has taken to me to places no other ever could, Princess, and she has seen many a stormy night; many a sea-going battle - by God, she has even skirted through the edges of hurricanes in tropical storm-seasons many moons ago." And he looked at her with those eyes once again and spoke in a tone so sincere that she was a little taken aback. "This ship is very precious to me."

A pause followed as Captain Ichinomiya rose, slurping his drink, letting the words sink in. He clunked over to her side of the desk and stood, towering so intimidatingly over her that she slid down in her creaky little seat in a vain attempt to escape his gaze - in a way that a rabbit might shrink back into the dark of its burrow when the fox comes prowling in the dead of night.

“Without this ship, I could not have gotten this far, Miss Hinamori,” he continued. “I could not have made it here; not left Seiyo; not become a pirate and, although you may be of the opinion that my way of life is ill and fiendish and should be damned to the Devil himself, I have my _own_ opinions. I have my reasons for this way of life and I have no intention of turning back. So, yes, this ship is valuable to me. She is my sanctuary and my way of life, so I am sure you understand that she, of course, holds more value to me than most I have obtained in my lifetime." Captain Ichinomiya leaned forwards slowly, teasingly, letting his sentence hang in the air between them;

"And now I require something that is of value to yourself, Your Highness."

“I…” words almost failed her as Amu stared up at the man, so perplexed even that she momentarily forgot all fear. "I beg your pardon? With all due respect-" (she inwardly scoffed, for she meant him none) "-how am I supposed to understand what on Earth you want from me?"

"You will be incredibly helpful to our cause, Princess." the Captain replied and Amu felt like protesting greatly. Why would she want to consider being of help to these people who robbed and thieved and cut and slashed the throats of innocent civilians? The thought made her sick. That very thought made her half-wish that they would just throw her overboard and be done with it, for if it came down to choosing between her country and Captain Ichinomiya… Well, it wasn’t really a competition. She turned away to spare herself from looking at that face - that face that still seemed as hard and firm as iron - and focused on the fraying rug beneath their feet.

The pirate, noticing this, edged towards the side and into her field of vision. He roughly stomped one big, hefty boot as he walked as if to snap her attention back to the matter at hand. Amu was hesitant and disgusted, but she did so hesitantly - lips pursing into a tight line; her eyes beginning to glint in defiance. Perhaps if she listened like a good little girl he would be done with all his nonsense sooner and eventually she could go back outside to whatever it was she was supposed to be doing. Scrubbing planks or fetching supplies for the crew - it was all better than whatever he had to say. Though at the moment he was still staring. Still, still staring and scrutinising and examining her face until...

"The Humpty Lock."

Amu raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”

The man cackled without mirth. _"The Humpty Lock."_ He repeated, clearer and firmer this time and Amu's brows narrowed now because she was _positive_ that she had heard that term before. "You know of it."

It wasn't a question. And he was right because at that moment he slid a tattered, scorch-edged piece of parchment over the desk and Amu had to fight with all the will in her body to keep her jaw from dropping to the floor.

Scrawled in a rough hand, yet surprisingly detailed, there was illustrated the very pendant that, years ago, Queen Hinamori - her _mother_ \- had given to her daughter on that birthday long ago. She remembered the way it had glinted in the sunlight that afternoon; she remembered how the crystals had sparkled and shimmered as running water bubbling from a newly-formed spring; and she recalled the loss and sense of hopelessness that had been plaguing her mind ever since she had woken up in that tiny cabin to find her dear locket missing from her neck. That burden was becoming heavier and heavier by the minute - weighing down on the empty space above her heart; as solid and glaring a burden as any she had ever felt.

Amu’s throat was dry, her breath labouring as she stared at that drawing on the desk. _‘The Humpty Lock?’_ she thought, testing the name in her head whilst she couldn’t on her tongue. _‘What on earth does he want with my-? But doesn’t he have it? He must have it, my jewels they were stolen and-’_

But then she stopped, the thought on hold. Skin tingling; the hairs raising on her arms, her mind travelled back to that first day she had arrived on this ship - the day when she had woken to find herself cast adrift amongst a sea of sordid souls; the day she had first felt that missing space in her heart; the day when Ikuto had met her gaze so firmly, his eyes so blue, and said, upon questioning;

_“You might not want to mention that to anyone.”_

Those had been his words.

_"And why might that be?"_

But then that meant…

_""Because… We're pirates."_

Behind her, Amu was suddenly very conscious of his presence in the room. She could just picture him in her mind’s eye - arms folded and head down; leant up against the door; melting into the shadows.

Ikuto did not want her to mention the topic of her missing jewels - her missing Lock - to the Captain… And that made her wonder;

_‘What could the Captain possibly want them for?’_

Amu had no idea. Amu couldn’t even _begin_ to guess, for what would any pirate want with a single piece of jewellery when he was free to pillage and plunder to his leisure - to have his pick of any loot he so desired from here all the way to the ends of the ocean! But Kazuomi wanted _this_ Lock. He had desired it so dearly that he had gone so far as to take her, a member of the royal line, hostage aboard the Shining Black. Whatever his aim, it must have been dangerous; immoral; otherwise negative even by a fellow pirate’s standards…

Behind them, Ikuto remained as silent as the grave. Had he not led her here, then Amu might not have noticed him there at all, but at that moment she wished she could turn and thank him dearly for that little comment he'd made in her cabin that day or else she might not have put the pieces together and realised Ichinomiya’s petty motive for dragging her aboard this vessel in the first place. Again, what he wanted her Humpty Lock for she did not know, but when she looked directly at the old man's face there was a fire raging fiercely on within his eyes, untamed by his composed and cool exterior and, to tell the truth, it terrified her - spoke far louder than words ever could.

But, whatever his reasons, Ikuto had so far risked his life, as far as she was concerned, to go against his own superior; his own Captain - his own _father_ even - and it was that which strengthened her resolve and set her mind in stone. And so she would lie and play the fool and not allow this dirty scoundrel to catch even a sniff of that missing, treasured trinket. But, of course, that would also mean trusting Ikuto enough to lay her _own_ neck right on the line… _And_ her ability to act convincingly. Amu wholeheartedly thanked her years of preparing for leadership. All those years of training, it seemed, would not go to waste.

Her expression calm and with a beautiful hint of bewilderment just for a little added effect, Amu shook her head. "No, Captain…" She stared up at him in a way that reminded her of all the times she had tried to deceive her parents as a child - looking for all the world a complete depiction of innocence - and added; "I don't know what you're talking about."

Something twitched in Captain Ichinomiya’s temples. "The Humpty Lock has been handed down the Hinamori line for generations." Ichinomiya stated flatly and then added with a greedy glint in his eye and a disturbingly chaotic grin; _"I've seen it."_

Amu considered her next words carefully. "Well… I have heard something about a piece of jewellery that gets inherited by the Queen..." She paused here and plastered on her best expression of thoughtfulness. "But I've never seen it."

"Your Highness," the Captain made no effort to conceal the iciness of his tone as he hissed at her; "I remind you, you _must_ have seen it. Does your dear mother not wear it round her neck as, I'm sure, you would..?" The underlying implication was crystal clear, but Amu didn’t even bat an eyelid - not even now that he had circled her chair, leaning down and breathing directly in her ear; vile breath hitting her cheeks in a way that made the Princess want to squirm.

"I have never seen it, Captain." Amu firmly repeated, leaning away for the sake of personal space. "If it is even real, I've never seen my mother with this Lock." And then, with the sudden confidence in herself to continue to spout out these dirty great lies, she found herself shaking her head in a disappointed and exasperated manner. "You fool… You have captured the King's daughter for nothing and I should wish to see you hang for it."

The Captain stopped. He straightened. A deadly shadow had overcome his face and, for a second, Amu’s heart sped up in panic. She would prefer to face his wrath right now rather than be left hanging and dreading. Ruddied silver and polished wood and the smoke of gunpowder appeared fresh in her memory. She remembered too late that that dreadful weapon still lay in wait in the drawer of his desk and he slowly, painstakingly trudged his way back over to the desk, rattling his boots on the floorboards with the dull _thud-thud-thudding_ that made the unstable chair threaten to give way beneath her.

"You remember your first day aboard this ship, Princess?"

She made no reply.

"You remember my conditions? You remember how I enforce these rules?"

The chair creaked as the heiress dug her nails into the arms in terror. She saw it now as the Captain reached beneath his coat, deep into his pockets - that flash of silver suddenly leapt out in the darkness and Amu nearly squeaked.

“Unfortunately…”

But in a second the thing was gone. Ichinomiya slid open a drawer and dumped the pistol carelessly inside with a _thump!_ that made her jump within her chest. He slammed the drawer roughly shut.

"Unfortunately, my firearms are waiting to undergo a little priming and are, as of now, unfit for service." It was as if all tension in the air had snapped - a spell broken suddenly as the breeze filtered in through the open windows and the breath Amu didn't even realise she was holding was released quite audibly and she was positive she heard a chuckle, though in her little moment of relief she didn’t pay attention to it. "But you understand the consequences should you fail to comply, Your Highness?"

Amu’s mind was a panicked blur as she began to consider just how far the Captain might go to make her break - how would he pressure her? What other horrors would he introduce her to? What mind games would he - this terrible trickster - begin to play?

However, these thoughts were short-lived. The Captain now sat down heavily in his chair and was calling Ikuto forward to take her back to her duties. Amu was up on her feet in a second. She practically jogged towards the door, her heart in palpitations and her breath short as she stood in the safety of the corridor. She barely even registered the young pirate beside her until he ushered her away from the cabin door and began in an almost awestruck manner;

“You,” Ikuto said; “are… incredibly brave.” At her blank look he added; "I would expect anyone else to crack."

She was too breathless for a minute to even respond. She nodded a little, a hint of a blush beginning to spread across her pale cheeks. “W-Well,” she eventually said; “I suppose it's part of my job. W-Well, you see… If I'm supposed to take over the country someday I'd- I'd have to be and pressure, well, that's part of the job…"

Amu was babbling now - rambling and stumbling and stuttering as the adrenaline in her veins began to fail. Ikuto watched her go on with mild fascination. He was stunned. Utterly stunned. He had never stood by and watched anyone - _anyone_ \- ever dare to show enough will and determination to give Kazuomi such a mighty slip. And, what was more, she knew nothing - _nothing!_ Ikuto had said not a word to her about that Lock or about any of the other jewels she had found herself stripped of upon her arrival on the Shining Black. She knew not where it was nor who had it. It would have been so easy to her - oh, so, _so_ easy - to simply rely on her own plausible deniability and state that, yes, she did know it, but not where it was…

She had listened to him. Yet, the manner in which the Captain had so quickly dismissed her had left an uneasy sort of feeling in the pit of his stomach. Kazuomi would not give up so easily.

All he could do, he realised now, was to rely on Her Highness to keep up her act. He hoped to God that she could.

~.~.~

Stepping inside, Tadase was unsurprised to find the hallway of Mr Amakawa’s home equally as grand as its exterior. Their host was leading them through corridors of stone - gleaming slabs of palest pinks and blues and greens and dotted with exotic plants of every shape and size and variety. How a simply fortune-teller could have accumulated such wealth, Tadase would never know.

Tsukasa passed beneath the shadow of an elegantly twisted archway and turned back, smiling softly at them; “If you’d like to follow, Your Majesty,”

For some reason, none of the company found themselves able to protest. It was as if they wandered in such a state of dreamlike wonder, so far gone between those blissful periods of sleep and waking, that they were being beckoned - pulled on by some unseen, mystical force like puppets on strings. The spell was only broken for the briefest of seconds when the King himself managed to catch a glimpse of a large space in which there stood a large, round table and several plush chairs - ideal for a meeting place. With fine furniture, a regal fireplace and an elegant ambience, it looked to be a dining hall where, in their experience, many meetings in the Hotori home were held.

“Excuse me, Mr Amakawa,” King Tsumugu started as they reached the staircase, his status oddly seeming to shrink before Tadase’s very eyes as he looked up at the strange man. “If you don’t mind my asking-” (Tadase balked, for it was _unthinkable_ that the King should have to ask!) “-would it not be best to have our discussion in your hall?”

Tsukasa paused on his step above them and merely beamed down. “If you don’t mind, Your Majesty, I should like to show you my proper workspace,” He paused for a second, as if allowing the enchantment upon them all to reaffirm itself; to grip ahold of their minds. “Please, this way.”

And so they followed, bewitched and exchanging glances, for their host was undoubtedly a quirky sort of fellow and quite unlike anyone they’d ever met before. But it had to be said that he was incredibly charming and courteous despite his odd mannerisms and so even Tadase remained silent as the man led the King like a puppy on a lead through his home, gliding through halls and up steps with all the swiftness and ease of a spirit in the mist. He would stop at the top of a step and allow them to catch up, for he skimmed the stone with impressive speed, and then he would smile - graciously, wordlessly - and beckon them on. But, silent as he was, Tadase could not help but shake the feeling that they were being lured into the lion’s den - that this man’s pleasant demeanour was a cloak; a cunning disguise - and that, as the man turned next to wave them forwards, that he caught the Commander’s gaze with a cheeky glint in his eye. It was a glint he disliked immensely - that set off all the warning bells in his head. He became guarded; cautious and on edge, never knowing what might lay around the next corner or through the oncoming door. Already he wished to leave, apprehensive and troubled at this peculiar way in which Mr Amakawa treated his guests, but, for the life of him, he could not shrug off that tug that pulled at his chest and obliged him to continue on through the mansion.

They were led up three flights of staircases and, during that time, Tadase was so keen to avoid the man's eye-line that he could not help but eagerly look around. There were so many rooms. So _many_. Sitting rooms and bedrooms and study rooms and possibly even a library down a couple of floors back. Through a giant, arched window the man managed to spot a massive, blooming garden that sprang to life with colour and life and crowded with all sorts of plants; native and exotic and far too many for a single person to count. Lined with neatly trimmed bushes and dotted with roses of many colours, he had never seen such a vibrant garden in all his life. Just beyond the hedgeline was the line of the sea glittering marvellously underneath the blazing sun. It lit the greenery and made it glow; made it grow more active and alive before his very eyes and Tadase could easily kid himself that he could see the plants themselves moving and swaying cheerfully in the warmth as they basked in the much-needed rays of light. He spotted a little fountain trickling and gurgling away and he craned his neck to see it closer, but in an instant he was nudged further up the stairs by the guard behind him and, much to his disappointment, he was forced to leave the garden behind.

Seconds later, they found themselves stood on a narrow landing, staring at a grand set of carved doors, secured with a little lock around the handles. The light from the small window behind them was blotted out by the group of guards and the room was cast into a cold shadow. But, in the darkness, Tadase saw it - the faintest, most subtle glow beneath the heavy doors in front. Tsukasa smiled with a fondness that warmed his eyes as he stepped forward and unlocked the door.

"Please," he began as he slowly pushed them open; "make yourselves comfortable."

It was all Tadase could do to keep himself from gasping aloud.

Immeasurably high and awe-inspiring, they wandered into the grand space - a massive, domed room - and it seemed to them that they had crossed the boundary into a whole other dimension. Tadase looked about almost frantically, trying to spot the source of this - this _trick_ because _surely_ it could not be real? This could only be some sort of illusion - a play on the eyes and mind! This space was dark as the night, yet bright like the shine of the sun on the water; it was dim and cold as frost, yet it glowed and radiated with a warm, comforting feeling that made the body relax and calm; breathe slowly and easily. It was like… He'd heard the word before somewhere… It had been described to him as a sensation of great and total peace; happiness; tranquillity… _Nirvana_! Yes, a sense of nirvana overwhelmed them on their first few steps into the space where, up above, little white dots twinkled and gleamed seemingly all on their own , like stars painted onto the night's sky, some connected by little white streaks as thin as fishing line and others as though painted rope had been pressed down in-between.

_'Night…'_

Yes, that was it. The room was blue; a deep, deep blue as the colour of the sky just before all turns into inky blackness; after the stars have just begun to show themselves like timid spirits creeping out when they're sure that all have gone to sleep; when they have the freedom to come out and dance across the sky like fireflies trapped beneath the haze of the moon.

"It's an observatory?" Nagihiko, a little behind, said uncertainly, for it did seem that the night sky was merely painted on the surrounding walls and yet still the tiny dots gleamed with all their might.

"Yes…" Tsukasa said and it seemed then that this man - this strange, enigmatic man - melded before their eyes into the starlight. He shut the door closed behind them, sealing out all other light, intensifying the glow of the light above. "Isn't it wonderful? The stars are beautiful." He said to them. "Stunning the way they glow so bright to be seen all the way down here - on this little hunk of rock that just sits and floats and watches curiously, yet… Yet is never able to…" - he raised a hand to all the dots above his head, as if he were about to caress the fabric of the night - "To touch them…"

_'Dear Lord, Rima,'_ Tadase thought for a moment; _'I do hope this man you've is quite sane. I do not doubt that he is outstanding…'_ He thought as he once more took in the strange observatory. _'But…'_ The word trailed off uncomfortably.

By now, the fortune teller had shook his head and taken his eyes off what seemed to be his pride and joy. He instead turned towards the King. "Now, Your Majesty," he began, going over to a table on the other side of the room and gesturing to one of the seats; "I believe you require my services."

Tsumugu, stunned still, snapped himself back to reality and wandered over to the indicated seat, followed by his guards. Tadase eyed their host with suspicion. Had Rima told him they would be coming come beforehand? But it didn’t matter; the King had sat and the fortune-teller took a cup of tea from the pot that sat on the side of the table which Tadase, now he was closer, noticed had various markings and inscriptions; symbols and patterns illustrated around the edges. In the middle a carving of the sun with great, thick rays of light reached all the way out to the strange etchings on the sides. He recalled things similar seen at travellers' stalls on street corners - in the tents of gypsies who claimed to foresee the future of whoever offered the most money and in that moment he sincerely doubted Tsukasa's credibility as a fortune-teller, for how could he hope to be genuine if he followed the habits of the homeless? How could be stand out apart from those hags who simply wished to con the most amount of money they could from honest hands? He saw the King watching in fascination, clearly far too hopeful, and prayed that this man wouldn't let them down else he'd see to it that he found himself snatched from the comfort of his classy mansion and dumped among those other fakes for good. This was the wellbeing of Her Highness that was placed upon the table, after all. If Tsukasa led them off on a wild goose chase then Tadase would not forgive him.

"Your daughter…" Tsukasa said once he had taken a sip from his tea which the Commander guessed was one of the herbal kinds as the scent reached his nose. He frowned a little and hoped, for that man's sake, that whatever herbs had been used were of the harmless variety.

However, Tsumugu was staring back wide-eyed and open his mouth to speak, still utterly and pathetically enchanted when Tsukasa laughed lightly in interruption;

"Please, sir, what else would you have come to speak to me about? But, anyhow, I have thought about this for quite some time… If you look at the night sky," - he pointed up and instinctively the group craned their necks to spy the stars - "the positions of the stars are said to change throughout the course of our lifetimes… I don't know if you believe in guardian spirits, Your Majesty, but it is said that somewhere, someone watches over you from the heavens and guides you down the long, winding road of the stars towards your destiny." Tsukasa laughed again. "But, as I said, it may take some persuading for a person to believe in such things. On rare occasions, a person may become aware of their guardian spirit as they watch themselves move in time with the sky above their heads. It is rare - it takes time and luck and fate and so, as you can guess, there are no more than one or two examples of this…” And he glanced up from his tea and his eyes flickered for a split-second over to the Commander. Tadase bristled. “But I have noticed, Your Majesty, that the stars are moving increasingly rapidly as of late - a very recent thing, I must stress."

The King, who until now had simply been listening and watching in a stunned silence, spoke up, his voice as quiet and wavering as anything Tadase had ever heard leave his lips; "Recent?"

Tsukasa nodded; a new gleam in his eye, but one that the Commander, frustratingly, could not decipher. "I do believe this may coincide with the changing in your daughter's life course."

And with that single utterance, Tadase was a disheartened to see that suddenly the King was hooked - drawn in by the possibility of being able to trace his daughter and find her safely all through the use for something as simple and mystical as the stars - through such intangible means of horoscopes and fate and destiny... Oh, how pitifully gullible! The Commander wanted to scoff and sigh, interrupt to say that this was all, frankly, ridiculous nonsense and advise that he and the King leave as quickly as possible to leave this madman to sit and drink his tea and stare blankly at the walls. He only wished he had more than just his own suspicions to be able to justify getting them all out of here. The questionable ingredients of the tea wouldn't stand either, he realised. The scent was stronger now and he'd concluded that it was just a blend of simple greens and perhaps some fruits - all of which could be found in his own garden at the Hotori mansion; harmless.

"Your Majesty," Tsukasa continued; "I cannot go so far as to give you an exact bearing, as you understand, nor her exact location on this globe, but, as it happens, I can give you this;" - the King noticeably leaned closer and Tadase silently cursed his susceptible nature - "Your daughter is not as far from your reach you might think and…" He paused, earning a raised eyebrow from the man across the table. He closed his eyes, rubbed his brows and breathed deeply. It appeared that he had effectively convinced his company that he was in fact predicting or prophesying or perhaps even meditating for all the hell they knew, but it had worked as when he looked back up again they were hanging on his every word, waiting with bated breath. "And I believe nights when the moon is new are when luck may be in your favour. I believe that on these nights you will find yourself closer… That is all I can give you."

"Thank you." Tsumugu said graciously as he rose from his chair. "I do feel comforted by your words, Mr Amakawa. Thank you."

"You're very welcome, Your Majesty." Was the reply as the man sipped again at his tea, lowering his head as if to bow without leaving his seat. To Tadase’s utter horror - the man didn’t even make to follow them further. He merely sat in his seat and drank his tea and barely even raised an eyelid as Tsumugu marched from the room, followed by his guards, and made to leave. Tadase cast a dirty look at the fortune-teller who paid them no attention as they left his constellation room (or observatory or _whatever_ this madness was!) and caught up with the King.

He dare he, he thought. Tadase, loyal to a fault, was positively riled at the pure insolence of the man. He cried out, infuriated as he jogged across the gravel drive and back to the coach; "Your Majesty!"

The King opened the door with a great push and glanced back over his shoulder. "Yes, Commander?"

Tadase opened his mouth to unleash a relentless assault of fury… Only to find that the words wouldn’t leave his throat. He looked into the eyes of the King and there it was - that little thing he’d been so desperately trying to instill in His Majesty’s heart. _Hope._ That hope - it shined as strong as the stars of the observatory. It bloomed and glittered and burst into life as the flowers in Tsukasa’s garden or the glint of the sun on the crest of the waves; as the light of day rebounded from the jewel on the end of his staff… And suddenly he realised that he couldn't bring himself to voice his opinions; he couldn't say that this fortune-telling lark was but a cheap, untrustworthy con and that they had all been so easily deceived - played by a mad and (daresay) genius of a fake mystic like marionettes on strings - and taken the bait that he _knew_ they had wished to hear. He could say all of this and more - much, _much_ more! - but…

"Never mind.” he swallowed, his tone subdued. “It was nothing, Your Majesty."

"I must say, Commander, so long as I find my daughter, I could not care in the slightest!" the King let out a burst of laughter. "And so long as she is found in the way he said then, by Gods, that Mr Amakawa shall be expecting awards of the finest kind!"

Tadase twitched. As Tsumugu turned away, he peered back at the home of the would-be psychic. How could he be so low as to lie to those most in need of a little courage and hope?

"Your Majesty," Tadase began - his mind set and already turning back towards the mansion; "You and the guards may head off if you wish.” He turned on his heel and dug his staff into the dirt;

“I'd like to speak with this Mr Amakawa one last time."

~.~.~


	11. Eleven

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

_“TSUKASA!”_

Like a tidal wave rushing towards the helpless town, so Tadase surged towards the doors of the fortune-teller’s constellation room and threw them open with a force that shook the very walls - bursting through with all the fury of a raging storm. His contempt knew no bounds - his ire unbridled now that he was safely away from those eyes of the King which had grown so pitifully hopeful and bright.

He purposefully marched inside to find the man himself sat in his chair in the middle of the room, one leg draped casually across the other and his head turned towards the ethereal glow above. He did not flinch - did not even _twitch_ \- as the Commander growled his name once more. He, in his own sweet time, calmly turned towards the man with such a casual air that Tadase dug his nails into the flesh of his palms; willed himself not to lash out. Anything he did under the influence of anger would likely be too uncalled for and irrational if he wished to be taken seriously.

Tsukasa rose from his chair, taking a sip from the fine china teacup in his hand and said; “Ah, Tadase Hotori. What can I do for you?” And he gave the younger man the most all-knowing look in existence. “I should think you’d be getting back to the King by now.”

“Tsukasa!” Tadase spat fiercely. He strode forwards until he was but a foot away from the man who stood still quietly sipping his tea; watching him with an interest that seemed to light up his gentle eyes. They gleamed and glittered in the dim, blue light of the constellation room like two rare fireflies - dancing in a way that was almost hypnotic.

Tadase lowered his voice, hoping he might at least for a moment be able to bring this strange, strange man back to earth. Why was it that he failed to understand the importance of finding Her Highness? _Why_ and _how_ \- it was almost too tormenting to think about;

“King Tsumugu came here with the expectation that you would explain yourself!” he began; “That you would enlighten us - we know, of course, that it is you who is responsible for these outlandish rumours sweeping through this town. We came here in the hopes that you might shed some much-needed light on your murky predictions!” Tsukasa nodded, but otherwise listened patiently. “But, though His Majesty has the highest faith in you, I do not. It was not quite hard to spot that devious twinkle in your eye, Tsukasa.”

The fortune-teller simply nodded and met his eye. That mischief that so taunted him was dancing across his face; twisting and shifting his features until the Commander was sure that the man was simply nothing more than a wicked joker or a trickster that had led them all into some sort of trap - led them into making stupid mistakes that they would come to regret.

But, above all, Tsukasa looked impressed. He set the teacup down on the saucer in his other hand with a _chink!_ that echoed throughout the entire room. “You’re a smart man, Tadase, to have figured that out.”

His cool acceptance was quite startling. Would he not be worried that his little game had been found out? Should he not be afraid that Tadase would send word back to the King? That he might be punished?

“You didn’t exactly help your own case,” Tadase pointed out. “Why did you give such inaccurate predictions earlier?" He asked in a tone now so low that it would have chilled any other person to the very core. "Why did you give false clues to His Majesty?"

There was only silence in response.

“For the love of God, Tsukasa!” Tadase pressed; “do you not _see_ the importance of this?” The calm, tranquil face that met his answer had him at a loss for words because, for the life of him, _he could not understand._ "All we ask is for Her Highness to be found! The King - _His Majesty!_ \- and his wife cannot go on! You have never been a parent, Tsukasa, nor have I, yet surely you understand how strongly they must want her back…"

"As must you." Tsukasa replied finally, that all-knowing expression plastered on once more; a smirk beginning to cross his lips. "The Princess means a lot to you, doesn't she?"

He had never responded so immediately in all his life; "Of course."

A chuckle escaped the fortune-teller's lips and he stepped forth, tilting back his head to gaze up at the many lines and dots and strange markings that took on an astral role in the confusing, yet awe-inspiring map above.

"Sir, I have no fear in giving myself up so very soon to you, for you would no doubt see right through me no matter how many inaccurate readings I gave His Majesty.” he said lightly. “However, it is the King that I do not wish to disappoint. Tadase... You realise how desperately the King must be comforted and, more so, I do not wish for him to interfere with events far more important than your searching for the Princess of Seiyo." Tadase's jaw dropped and Tsukasa chuckled again at the expression, speaking again before the younger man could interrupt. "The stars' movements are changing," he began; "Normally, the stars would make their own way to their destinations, but this time…" - he sighed - "This time the interference caused by yourself and His Majesty is enough to drive those stars down the wrong route. Though you mean well, it is best to let them make their own way. Everything will be alright," he concluded; "in time."

A moment of silence passed. Tadase stood, dumbfounded.

"What does this have to do with the _stars?"_ He scoffed, bewildered beyond belief at this sudden and frankly quite outrageous turn in the conversation. He shook his head as if to forcibly rid himself of any words of Tsukasa's that might have sunk in. "All we want is for Amu to be returned safely to our shores and for the God _awful_ pirates who have taken her from us to be hung and, I assure you, I will stop at _nothing_ to find her!" He paused for dramatic effect before adding; "You seriously cannot expect me to believe that we may do her harm."

But Tsukasa just sighed. "Amu Hinamori is finding her own way in the world. As it turns out, she may be of great importance."

_"'May'?"_ the blonde - who until know had not believed the situation could get any more ridiculous - growled. _"'May_ be of great importance'? _She's the Princess of Seiyo!"_

Tsukasa looked back at him and half-shrugged. "The Lock and the Key grow ever closer. Soon the Dumpty Key will reveal itself and another chapter in the story will begin." He stated, explaining as one might explain any ordinary, everyday event - as if he were talking about the weather; as if the concept should have been simple to grasp.

“Stop speaking in riddles!" the Commander snapped, exasperated. "The Lock and Key? What on earth are you talking about? What does Her Highness have to do with-?"

But before he could finish Tsukasa was beside him; leaning over; sipping his herbal tea. “You’ve heard, haven’t you?” he said conspiratorially. “You've heard the rumour, haven't you, Commander?" Tsukasa came a couple steps closer. "The Lock that Miss Hinamori constantly wears - the one that was passed down through her family for centuries, which is cast out of gold and shaped like a clover - you've heard that it is said to bring good fortune, haven't you?"

There was a change in the room. A great sense of calm washed over as Tadase narrowed his brows, slowly entranced under the influence of this man and the stars and the glow of the painted sky above.

"A Lock that brings good fortune…" Tadase repeated distantly… And then he blinked suddenly, as one might forcibly keep from succumbing to a drowsy slumber, and the charm lessened. Calmer though, he rolled his eyes and dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "Like you said, Tsukasa, it's merely a rumour. I doubt that there's a hint of truth to it."

"Ah, that you are right, Mr Hotori." Tsukasa nodded in agreement and it in some way surprised Tadase to know that the fortune-teller - despite his love of the heavens and for astrology - agreed that something such as a 'lucky Lock' was not possible. "Now," he continued; "have you heard of the missing Key that goes with it?"

"The… Key..?"

"Yes." He nodded. "When the Humpty Lock was created - quite some centuries ago, I believe - there was a Key made to go with it; the Dumpty Key. But," he said gravely, looking once again up to the constellations spread across the ceiling and Tadase was quite troubled to notice the sombre expression on the normally cheery man's face; "no one knows of its whereabouts. The story has been lost and long forgotten by most, but, if you look closely enough, it can still be seen in the stars today…" He placed his teacup and saucer on the side table beside his chair before taking a seat and continuing.

"For many years the stars have been used to tell stories. In ancient times each constellation had a meaning or legend or story to go with it... The most recent is that of the Humpty Lock and the Dumpty Key. The Humpty Lock supposedly brings good luck to those who it is given to; the Dumpty Key is said to grant its owner power... As you can probably understand, Commander, this is why it is greatly sought after by many, so that they may take control of countries, continents, empires, whatever they wanted." - a sip from the cup was taken - "Another old rumour, or a legend, if you will, is that once the Lock and the Key come together they will reveal the map and unlock the path to the location of a treasure - a _Great Treasure_ beyond anybody's wildest dreams. _That_ is the reason why people today are still searching for them."

Tadase was silent for a moment as he thought about the tale he had just been told. It was odd, he thought - truly odd and it went against every piece of rationality he had.... But somewhere, he noted in the back of his mind, that whereas minutes ago he had been convinced that this man and all of his stories were purely signs of lunacy, now he was certain that the pieces were starting to all slot together. His brain ticked away; new thoughts forming clearer in his head...

A Lock.

A Key.

"A Great Treasure?"

And then it hit him - harder than it had moments ago. Amu was in possession of the Humpty Lock - one of the keys to obtaining this grandiose cache of riches and, of course, she had been captured by a group of seafaring criminals. What more would any pirate want? He remembered old, old tales of the buccaneers from ages passed and remembered legends of buried gold and hidden stashes on desert islands... And it all made sense.

A sense of urgency overcame him - an abrupt, frenzied urgency that gripped at his heart; powered his resolve;

"What is this Great Treasure?" Tadase demanded. _"What_ exactly? Gold? A treasure map?” He was gasping now - his eyes wide in alarm; heart hammering. “Ah, Tsukasa, it all makes sense! Surely _this_ is the reason for her kidnapping - the pirates are after this treasure!"

Relieved and somewhat proud, Tsukasa nodded. Tadase breathed deeply; calming himself now that his mind was dizzily spinning with possibilities and tried to focus as Tsukasa continued;

"Many believe that the treasure is of jewels and gemstones; silver; gold; many other precious metals... Some also believe that it is of the Humpty Lock and the Dumpty Key's special luck and power combined. Myself," he went on; "I personally believe that this treasure is not so much to do with items or powers as many have speculated, but instead something more subdued - something more valuable. I believe that a life’s worth of experience and wisdom may be more of worth to them than all the gold and pieces-of-eight in existence… There is, of course, much to consider,” he mused; “Consider that these souls cast adrift will undertake the greatest of journeys to set sail upon their destined path; consider that these obstacles in their way shall only shape them and help them shine brighter still… Consider too, the relationship towards the Lock and Key and the affection they have towards one another."

At Tadase’s blank look, he chuckled lightly and continued;

"The Lock and Key… The two's relationship, I must say, is quite spectacular. They are a matching pair, after all, if you believe in that sort of thing." He smiled fondly, gesturing at the space in the constellation map where there could just be seen the rough outline of a clover-shaped pendant. Faint, scratchy lines connected the little white dots, scattered across the darkness. "I have spent many of my evenings watching the heavens, Commander, and in this time I have noticed the gradual transition between light and dark in our galaxy. These two," he said, sidestepping across the room, and picking out from the map the outline of a Key; so similar in design to the Humpty Lock; "have for many years lacked in radiance - as sad as it may seem - but, these past few weeks they have appeared to shine far brighter than I have ever seen them. It's quite extraordinary. They _move_ , Tadase. They move across the sky itself and the closer they near one another, the brighter they glow and the more of the night sky they are allowed to _see!_ They are undergoing great changes and they undergo it all together - step by step; side by side; until they glow with all their might and interlink above our very heads each night, for the more we undergo the brighter we can shine!" He grinned up at them, his passion and pent-up enthusiasm overflowing. "And of course, when our partner is beside us for support how can we not shine so brilliantly?"

"Partner?" Tadase murmured. But that mischievous, knowing look from Tsukasa had him stammering as he connected the dots in his head. "T-Tsukasa!” he exclaimed; “I was Miss Hinamori's fiancé! C-Could-?"

Tsukasa laughed, amusement lighting up his slender features. “You are not in possession of the Dumpty Key, Tadase. Consider that. Besides, we will not know what sort of treasure the Lock and the Key will bring until the stars' next movements and until the Key reveals itself." And, despite his glee under the watchful eyes of his two favourite constellations, he heaved a small sigh. "When I talk of relationships though, Tadase, I don't necessarily mean in a romantic way… It is a possibility, but, allow me to elaborate… I think it concerns the way the two influence each other. As they grow closer they learn more about one another and, in turn, more about the world around them - and, not to mention, even more about themselves. Romance is not everything in this world, but, then again, that very well depends on your opinion. It may mean everything to you, but to another it may be a mere fantasy." Tsukasa stared upwards and shook his head softly. "But of course I may be entirely wrong."

The room was quiet for a few seconds until Tadase spoke up yet again. "Where is the Dumpty Key now?"

It was a question that had been lying in the back of his mind - a question that had only settled for a few minutes, but it was glaring and demanding and oh-so pressing that it had to be asked.

The fortune-teller shook his head. "Nobody knows. Whoever has it has been keeping it secret for generations. It was stolen soon after it was passed down through the first generation of the Hinamori family centuries ago."

"Pirates?" Tadase suggested.

The older man simply shrugged his shoulders. "Possibly, but what I _do_ know for sure is that you are right, Tadase. You have been observant in your investigation - it is obvious now that Miss Amu Hinamori is being kept by pirates to aid them in their search for the Dumpty Key. They know she has the Lock - they couldn't miss it - and they think that she may be able to help in some way. Now, you wanted an accurate prediction?" he made eye contact with the Commander, suddenly serious - his face settled into a grave expression that didn’t suit him;

"Soon everything will work itself out and the Great Treasure shall make itself known."

Tadase had cooled off by now. He didn’t know how to comprehend it - _any_ of it! As enlightening as their conversation had been, it only left him with yet more questions; more worry; more _fear_ for Her Highness who he so longed to see again. He felt as though his mind had been messed with. It was as if his thoughts, though clear and logical, had been shaken and stirred in his head until the air in room was stifling and the light of the constellations disorientating.

But, it was all he needed. He had his information; he had expressed that burning frustration that had been heating his blood; he’d come away with many useful things to consider… And, at this point, he didn’t particularly want to stick around for more lessons on the heavens and so, politely, he decided to excuse himself and hoped that if he left as soon as possible he may be able to catch up with the King before he made it back to the Hotori's home.

Looking forward to a breath of fresh air, he quite coolly headed for the doors. "Thank you for your time, Mr Amakawa."

"Commander!"

Tsukasa’s voice echoed throughout the cavernous space. Tadase stopped. Behind him, the fortune-teller was rising, a hand outstretched.

“One last piece of advice.” Tsukasa began. "Tadase," his voice grew solemn - so solemn and grave that the Commander actually froze with worry; "I am concerned - if not for Her Highness, then, ultimately, for you. You are a great and able Commander." He said, his words heavy. "Do not lose that all for the sake of one Princess."

Tadase turned slowly, his brows furrowed. His heart thumped loudly, though he did not know whether it was out of fear or if it was the sudden change of attitude... Or maybe it was the sudden thickness of the atmosphere that did it, he did not know. "What are you talking about?"

Mr Amakawa's eyes were bright in the dark, but they were narrow in a way which greatly reminded the other man of the large, predatory cats he had seen cruelly caged and chained in foreign markets. 

"I merely urge you: Do not get so caught up in this whole affair that you stray from the path that the stars have laid out for you. Do not give up your rightful duty or your sense of self. Not for anything."

Doubt crossed his mind only for a second. The words were grim, but Amu's situation was grimmer and, despite all he had learned that day of the Lock and Key and the treasure they would lead to, his faith in Tsukasa's theories of the stars were not yet fully cemented in his mind. After all, anyone who had a few select history books or who had heard the right legends would probably have been able to recall such stories. Tsukasa was knowledgeable, but, as far as Tadase was concerned, his astrology was not an exact science.

"With all due respect, Tsukasa," He said firmly, dangerously; "I have already told myself that I will give up nothing; neither my duty, nor the Princess. Good day."

In the background the fortune-teller stated coolly;

"I am worried about you, Tadase."

But the Commander let the words wash over.

"Good day, Tsukasa. I must be getting back to the King."

And with this, his host let go and gave up to watch the man leave his home, but his eyes were still so narrow, clouded with something not unlike apprehension. "I see." He replied, almost dismally. "Good day. Thank you for your visit."

"Thank you for your information."

"No problem, Commander."

Nodding once in return, Tadase let out a deep breath and turned to make his leave. He doubted that Tsukasa would show him out. His senses were shaken. What a bizarre man he was. He would sit there; stare at the 'sky' painted onto his ceiling for hours and it seemed as though he belonged there - a welcome part of the starry abyss; a single soul cast in the heavens amongst the stars who appeared before any curious fellow to voice the stories of the stars and to make quite sure that they could go on and form new stories as they drifted through the galaxy. Tadase took a last glance at the constellation of the Lock which hung above his head and wondered how much truth his tales held. And it was when he had just made it to the doorway - as his eyes began to adjust to the daylight that poured in through the windows of the hallway - that he had a new thought. He paused and nervously turned to meet Tsukasa's eye, who had since stood up again and set the cup and saucer back down on the little table, with a puzzled expression.

"By the way," he asked, eyeing the man suspiciously; "how is it that you are aware of all this? You said you knew for sure… How exactly is it that you know Amu is being used by the pirates to help find the Dumpty Key?"

Tsukasa chuckled - a chuckle of pure amusement - and before Tadase could snap at him, he was caught by complete surprise. At that moment a piercing squawk rang through the air and, from the open window behind, in flew a bird of striking emerald colour. He jumped to the side as it swooped in through the open doors and watched, stunned, as it came to rest upon Tsukasa's shoulder. The fortune-teller grinned, affectionately ruffling the bright yellow plumage of its breast. It let out a gentler, less piercing cry - a soft sound as if to thank the man for the attention - and it seemed to the Commander that anyone who were watching would believe that these two very different creatures were engaging in some sort of conversation far beyond anyone else's understanding.

He was so surprised, in fact, that he barely noticed Tsukasa discreetly remove something - though he could not tell just what - from the parrot’s leg. There was a slight ruffling that sounded like it could have been the rubbing of parchment upon parchment. Whatever it was, Tsukasa had expertly slid the object past his wrist and into the arm of his jacket. Tadase did not mention it, but that suspicious feeling that crept up each time he glanced at the man was growing stronger by the second.

Tsukasa, meanwhile, just chuckled once more at the bird on his arm and said nonchalantly;

"I have my ways."

~.~.~


	12. Twelve

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

Having travelled the globe; taken the tide as it came and drifting out into the deepest, furthermost uncharted regions (well, once uncharted at least, and when the rich, aristocratic folk had sent out their adventurers to investigate these foreign realms it had been farewell to some of the most famed pirate settlements in the small islands to the south, leaving gentlemen like Kazuomi himself to only skirt briefly around those lands during the winter months when the new settlers had abandoned the choppy seas for warm and toasty fires at home on familiar ground) there was little in this world that Captain Ichinomiya had not braved during his time. The last of the wild natives in the tropics; the snarling of the most vicious predators in the frozen lands up north; the chill and the wind and rain in the howling gales of hurricanes - as merciless and stealthy as some primeval beast that sought to swallow up all in its path.... But for all the grand adventures and courageous voyages he had taken in this last decade or so on this earth, it had to be said that there were some mistakes he had wished many a time to just take back and bury under the floorboards - to stuff under the rug and never allow to see the light of day again.

The most meagre of these faults, he had to say, would most definitely be that obnoxious creature that perched upon the end of his bedpost, cawing and twittering and scattering those pesky little feathers all over the fine woven sheets. If there was one thing that Captain Kazuomi Ichinomiya positively hated it was those damned feathers. Not to mention the parrot itself.

_"Clear off!"_ He barked deafeningly and watched as the thing launched itself off the bed - wings flapping madly and sending more of those bloody green things soaring throughout the cabin - and settled instead on the spare chair across the desk.

_'Curse this bird,'_ Kazuomi thought, casting the parrot a filthy look; _'Thick as a bloody brush and yet still I keep the dozy thing.'_

He marched over to it, grumbling to himself. He caught sight of the scroll on its scrawny leg and reminded himself (before he started priming his pistol) that the thing was, unfortunately, still of use. It would be too big a waste to shoot it now. He settled himself with the thought that once it got too old for service he would cook it. He'd never had parrot before - never heard of anywhere that actually served it, to be honest. Perhaps it was a delicacy on some islands with a more primitive population, but, until he could find enough reason to end the poor creature's life, he was sure he could find it. It was then as he began to consider which the taste would be closer to (chicken or pheasant or perhaps turkey?) that the bird squawked - a harsh and shrill sort of sound - as if for attention and the Captain finally rid the thing of its burden, roughly snatching the little piece of parchment. It cocked out its leg as if to offer it to its master and Kazuomi almost looked impressed. It was always such a dumb bird, after all.

But whatever was noted down here was of more concern than the intelligence of one little dimwitted bird. He cast his eyes over the first sentence of this newest message and his mouth twisted into a wry, sardonic grin.

"So,” he said, his tone calm and yet somehow still chilling to the very core; “the Royal Navy have started their search, hm?" In the background, Daichi the parrot let out what might have been an alarmed cry, but the pirate Captain didn't seem to hear it. He chuckled wickedly to himself, tossing the scrap of a note onto the desk.

It should have been a grave warning. It should have been enough to strike fear into his blackened heart, for he knew now that he and every other corsair that sailed these seas would be hunted down to the ends of the earth in the King’s futile race to find his daughter… But Kazuomi took it as a challenge. _They_ were the Shining Black! They were swift and steadfast and they had the luck of the wind in their sails. They were but murky apparitions in the sea fog; they were cunning and their cutlasses sharp; out of reach of the hand of the law…

No, those little sailor boys would never so much as catch a _sniff_ of them. And if they _did_ … Well, Kazuomi supposed he’d better be ready to prime that pistol after all.

_They_ had the Princess - sure to starve away in her cabin within the week and give up all her secrets and place that little golden Lock right into the palm of his hand just as planned. He glanced out the window, watching the sea spray rise and fall and spurt out in great tower-like formations from under the stern like steam escaping from a chimney. Focusing on the far-off horizon, unbroken by rocks or islands or great continents, he wondered when that first sail would pop up in the distance. The Royal Navy was finally searching for their lost Princess. He wondered if he'd be seeing them soon.

But, more pressingly, he wondered if he would be able to break her long before the navy even caught a glimpse of him.

"She's lying."

Captain Ichinomiya's voice just about echoed off the cabin walls that night; the words as heavy as the gale that had started to batter the Shining Black. Yet, though the ship rocked and creaked and groaned in pain under the relentless strain of the elements, Kazuomi sat back calmly; quietly; paying no heed to the whistling of the cold night wind that rattled the windows and ran across the boards in the draught. He lowered his face and the light of the flickering candles dotted about the room was reflected in that gleam of fury streaked across his eyes.

"She's _lying."_ He repeated firmly. "It's in her family; it's in her generation; I've seen that Lock with _my own damn eyes!"_ He almost let the rage overwhelm his senses then. He almost let the dark consume what little of his soul had not already been blackened by fury or greed or malevolence. But the Captain caught himself within a second and breathed deeply; as loud as the storm outside. "She has to be lying, the haughty little _brat."_ He huffed out the last of his ire and leaned back comfortably. "Never mind. It's just a matter of time until she tells all…”

He laughed bitterly.

“And when she does…"

He let it hang in the air for a moment before looking up at his son.

"Ikuto, cut the Princess' rations in half." Kazuomi gave the order so casually that Ikuto found it hard to conceal his shock - so great and cold was his blatant and blunt neglect. "Make her lack what she needs; make her more miserable; more deprived. Make her desperate enough for a simple slice of bread that, given the chance, she'd come _crawling_ back to me with that Lock in her hand in a second…"

Ikuto was glad that the Captain didn’t notice the tension in his body as he was excused, leaving the Captain to sit in his cabin alone and in peace; brooding; plotting.

_'She knows where the Humpty Lock is… She does…'_

~.~.~

The burning was unbearable. It pierced through the skin of her neck, trickling down her back like newly-glowing sparks; it flushed her cheeks and made the sweat gather along her hairline. Amu huffed and blew a flyaway strand of pink hair out of her eyes. The breeze was light, but the air was cool and yet still she felt as though she had been subjected to the heat of a fire. Hesitantly, warily, Amu glanced over her shoulder.

Captain Ichinomiya stood high up beside the helm like a gargoyle, dark and stony. He was staring at her. Amu felt herself shudder and turned back, trying again to ignore that intense heat as he watched her work. She thought she might’ve been lucky today. She thought he might have made himself scarce, for it seemed to be a general rule that if the Captain hadn’t made his presence known by about midday, then it was unlikely he’d emerge at all. But no. Not today. Still he stood sentinel over his ship and Amu wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take. She was fumbling; she was struggling to concentrate. She was trying so hard to properly stitch these sails that had been dragged up from the hold, but the needle was slipping from her grasp; her hands were shaking.

This was the first occasion that the Captain had actually stepped out onto the deck to observe his crew since their little meeting in his cabin. It was two days ago, now. Two days without so much as a glimpse of the rugged Captain had left Amu in high spirits. That first night she had tossed and turned fretfully in her cabin bed, tormented by the fact that she had no idea why the man wanted her Lock - or her _‘Humpty Lock’_ , as it appeared it was called - and praying that she had made the right decision. But two days had been enough to settle her nerves somewhat. If he was going to press the matter on her further he would have done so already, she reasoned, but, then again, that didn't explain why she was still on the ship at all. Amu didn't expect him to let her go immediately, nor did she believe that he would give up on the subject of the Humpty Lock quite so easily, but she couldn't help but wonder why he would leave her alone like this - _especially_ when she had seen that look of a madman in his eyes that just _screamed_ out his desperation and desire for that little golden trinket he was so keen to get his hands on.

All around her the planks were thudding; stomped upon and abused by countless boots and bare feet as the crew ran across the deck, adjusting the sails or priming weapons or going over to perch comfortably on the ratlines if there was no task for them at hand. She peeked up at the intricate weave of ropes and sail above her. At least seven members of the Shining Black were leisurely hanging, suspended in mid-air, laughing and jeering - three were even passing round a mug of something to share around, howling with laughter when one nearly dropped it and sent at least half of the rum cascading down onto the deck below. One unfortunate pirate skidded along across puddle of booze and cast a murderous look upwards. They hooted and howled and cracked witty jokes and Amu couldn’t help but smile. The clumsy pirate shook off his deathly look and chuckled to himself, shaking his head as if to say _"honestly!"_ and casually strolling off to find something to clean up the mess. Captain Ichinomiya behind her might have been a brute to say the least, but the same could not be said for this lot.

Amu straightened up once she had finished her work and pretended to turn to observe the water in the direction of the setting sun, casting her eye in the direction of the poop deck as she turned around. The Captain was gone. It was a massive relief. And it was even more of a relief when she saw Ikuto clambering down the companionway towards her. He was jingling his set of keys in his hand, letting them glint in the rays of the falling sun - a gesture he had adopted to tell her it was time for her to get back to her cabin for the night. It was reassuring, for even when the Captain was not on deck, Amu was sure that there were still some members of the crew who watched her curiously. Even at that moment, there was a short, stocky pirate leaning up against the gangway eyeing her over a mug of liquor. She glared at the scoundrel as if to say that, yes, she knew he was watching her and she was getting bloody tired of it.

“Hey,” Ikuto was approaching now, letting his voice carry over on the breath of the wind. "Are you coming," he began once she didn't move; "or are you spending the night with the crew instead?"

Amu snapped her head back in the right direction and hurriedly made her way towards her cabin. Ikuto was smirking behind her as she scurried inside and revelled in the cool shade of the room.

“In a hurry?” he hummed.

“Long day.” was all she said. “As usual.”

Ikuto looked as though he understood. “Your banquet awaits,” he said somewhat drily and he pointed to the table where there already lay a small tray containing her usual misshapen goblet of wine and beside it two ship's biscuits. She tried not to grimace at the sight of them; those unsavoury, stiff little jaw-breakers that made her teeth ache every time she tried to take a bite. Amu briefly pondered over whether rations were getting shorter or even just of poorer quality. She'd found herself going to bed hungry last night and the one before. That morning there had been no meal at all. 

"Thank you." Amu said softly, expertly hiding her disgust for those little hardtack biscuits that laid there on the tray in front of her. She'd have to try dipping them in wine and hope they softened enough for them to be edible.

Ikuto idly looped the keys round his finger, making them jingle and jangle in the otherwise soundless corridor. "No problem." he said. There was something of a sigh in his tone. He glanced at the meagre meal on the table and then shook his head. "If you'll excuse me," he paused to lean over and take the doorknob in his hand; "I must see the Captain before he retires. I’ll see you in the morning."

_“Wait,”_

He paused. There was a moment of near-awkward silence. Amu twisted the lace at the bottom of her bodice as she struggled to gather her thoughts into a proper sentence. 

"About the Captain…" Amu began uncertainly, slowly winding her fingers together - a habit she had for the most part managed to shake off, but under the intense stare of those two cobalt eyes she found it returning before she could stop it. She tore them apart and one hand came to rest at her neck. The space above her heart was still heavy - still bare and vulnerable for as long as she was parted from that pendant the Captain so dearly desired.

"Do you- Do you know why he wants my Lock?"

There was no reply. Ikuto just stared back.The tension in the room was palpable, but now that she had asked once, Amu found that she couldn't just let this opportunity pass. After all, how often would she find the right moment to bring this up to him?

"Why is it secret?" Amu asked. "I… I don't understand the significance…”

The seconds ticked by. Ikuto didn't respond. She narrowed her eyes at him. That constant blank staring was starting to hit a nerve.

"Are you going to _answer_ me?" she snapped. _“Ikuto!”_

And when he finally spoke up again, it was maddening;

“Captain’s business.”

Amu saw red. _“Oh,”_ she huffed, folding her arms and glaring at him. “Oh, am I _sick and tired_ of _‘Captain’s business’!”_ Who did he think he was? What made it not her business? What allowed him to determine that without her consideration? Ikuto _knew_ and yet he still belittled her! _"Of course_ it's my business!" she cried, outraged. "I've been patient and I've been _compliant!_ I've laboured on this ship and taken care of all your dirty work for days on end now! And I’ve even kept quiet because, even though I know that it is _indeed_ my business, Ikuto, I've been so terribly scared of the Captain that I haven't worked up the courage!" A pause to take a breath and Ikuto averted his eyes. "But I've haven't settled!" She stated firmly. "I've been up all night and I've been thinking over and over and _over again_ about _‘Captain’s business’_ and I just can't settle until I know why! Until I know what's going on! You realise that I've been taken away from my home, don't you? My _life._ Everything I know and love is a world away and meanwhile I'm stuck _here_ on this bloody boat and your _'Captain'_ can't even give me a half-decent reason as to _why?_ What the hell are you pirates playing at? What _pirate_ acts this tactically? Aren't you just a boat-load of floating _dogs?"_

And across the room, Ikuto let out a breath and shook his head, stepping back to wordlessly close the door on her and lock her out from that whole other world of knowledge that she was not entitled to and it cut through something inside of her. Why was she left in the dark? Why _she?_ He could have come clean; he could have given her a hint at least, but he didn't. Ikuto had decided to shut her out completely and, once the anger had subsided, that _hurt._ It hurt beyond belief.

_"Please,"_ Amu whispered.

Her reply was the cold clicking sound of the lock outside. Amu was left to the quiet of her cabin - that suffocating silence where nobody could hear her cry out. Anger surged through her veins. She snapped. Amu lunged for the tray of food upon the table and sent it flying towards the cabin door; spilled wine staining her skirt, biscuits barely crumbling as they hit the floor, screeching;

_"God damn it!"_

Amu threw herself down into a chair and sniffed, hot tears starting to fall against her cheeks. She felt like a small child in the middle of a tantrum, but she didn’t care. What did it matter?

_"God damn you, Ikuto!”_ she hiccuped into her hands. _“God damn Ichinomiya- God damn this bloody ship..!"_

_'Why the hell did I have to end up on this bloody boat?'_

Crying over her frustration; crying over her desperation; crying over her own small, pathetic, helpless little self... Amu couldn't even find the strength to lift herself up and into bed that night. She sobbed until her voice was hoarse, slumped across the rickety table and finally began to drift off into that wonderful, painless, carefree world of sleep.

But she couldn't help but notice the shifting of light beneath the doorway; the scuffle of boots; the gentle breath of a masculine sigh…

Not that she would remember the following morning.

~.~.~

The stifling heat of the afternoon sun lay thick and heavy upon the docks - the stone scorched; the heathaze palpable - though still the men were put to work. Moving faster; pushed harder than ever before, they laboured continually under the sinking sun all in the hopes of finishing the task at hand as quickly as they could, for all each man really wanted was a seat in the cool shade and a serving of ale and a chance to rest their aching bones after a day of exertion.

The townspeople were gathering now curiously; watching with intrigue and amazement. It was not often that their town saw such excitement, nor even so many men of high stature in one place. Overshadowing the sloops and little fishing boats there stood tall and proud five ships - all flying the King’s colours; all of polished oak and sails as crisp and pure as clouds. All fine, fearsome, yet awe-inspiring men-of-war lay in wait upon the calm waters as their crews got to work. Barrels were wheeled and heaved aboard; arms counted and checked off long, official-looking lists; sails were hoisted and trimmed or else hang limply from the yards - an unwelcome reminder of the lack of breeze on this hot day which would have been greatly welcomed by each and every worker.

Even His Majesty, as he stepped out from the pleasant temperature of the coach, had to pause to pat the perspiration from his forehead with a little silk handkerchief. He glanced around (barely noticing the men and women who dropped to their knees at his feet in respect, honoured) and he sighed - a light, relieved sigh that seemed to free from his chest long days and nights’ worth of tension and anxiety. Visibly pleased at such a display of positive work ethic, he beamed brightly.

"They are…" Midori watched the crew of the middle vessel - the Platinum Royal - weave their way through the shrouds and the ratlines like spiders across a web of rope with a skill and agility the likes of which she’d never seen. Every time the breeze picked up she would brace herself if one wavered as if expecting them to fall and come tumbling down onto the deck, so precarious was their duty. "A very spirited crew."

Tsumugu said nothing. He nodded, still smiling, and glanced at his wife with a reassuring sort of expression as if to say: "These men are good. These men will find our daughter.”

They found the Commander - head of their bold and courageous endeavour - in a cozy little inn across from the waterfront; sitting by the window and sharing bottles of liquor with those hardy men that would Captain the first few ships preparing to set sail that afternoon. There he sat - dressed in white amidst the navy blues and gold-trimmed uniforms; his head held high; the very picture of dignity and command and yet there was an anxious frown upon his brow. There was some reserve in his greeting; an uneasy tension set in his shoulders…

But the King, so hopeful and positive after having seen such a fine working crew, was blind to it. Tsumugu was introduced to each of the Captains, though, of course, the knowledge that only five ships would be sent out initially was not so pleasing to him. Five ships could not effectively scour the seas, but, after all, he knew that a further _fleet_ of ships would soon be sent to their aid and so he shoved aside his doubts and reassured himself of the positives of their plan as he looked ahead at the Commander - the finest, most loyal young man he could ever have relied on and with an excellent head for tactics if ever he saw one.

"I applaud your work, Commander." The King said earnestly, gesturing out to the grand vessels that could be seen clearly through the window. "They are fine crafts, without a doubt."

Tadase smiled gratefully (if a little strained) at the King's words and peered out at the men-of-war himself. "Thank you, Your Majesty. They are the finest that your navy has to offer. My own craft, the Seraphic Charm, as she is called, happens to be a first-rate man-of-war, Sir. And all the others at least third-rate, sir. We shall be needing their firepower. Surely, I believe, there would be none better for such a journey."

“Excellent.” he replied. “Tadase, I would very much like to oversee your crew’s work for this afternoon. Of course, I shall be present for the off, Commander. I shall watch from the waterfront this evening as these vessels leave Seiyo and I shall bid you luck as you embark on this daring endeavour… But it would very much settle me further to watch as they are made seaworthy.” And then he paused and briefly raised a glass of port to his lips. “After all, you are doing this for the sake of my daughter. I feel it would be wrong of me to ignore all the work you’re doing here.”

"Your Majesty," Tadase replied resolutely; "you needn’t ask." He rose from the table and made eye contact with each of the five Captains. "I shall take His Royal Highness on my inspection of the work, my men. Secure for us one of the back rooms and do call for some fine drink for us on our return.”

And, with that, the Captains all bowed respectfully and filtered through the relatively quiet bar. Shortly, Tadase and the two royals were left alone at the table, but not one of them moved to leave. There was a pause before Tadase swallowed thickly and returned his gaze to the man in front of him. He opened his mouth to speak, but the King was quicker.

"Tadase…" His Majesty began, the tone of his voice all of a sudden so soft and so very weary. "You have an excellent crew; excellent crafts… You have possibly the greatest drive and determination that I have ever witnessed… And it means so much to us," he looked up at the younger male with honest eyes and a hint of sorrow in his voice that truly tugged at the Commander's heart; tore at his chest - even filled him with such an unusually overpowering sense of disgust, for he thought that a person would have to be so dastardly low and vile to tear such a loving family apart; "Thank you, Tadase."

The Commander was, for a moment, too stunned to reply. Eventually he hung his head low in a bow and sank back down into his seat. "You didn't come here today to oversee the work, did you, Your Majesty?"

The King laughed lightly. "Well, I admit that both myself and my wife _do_ have great interest in this dock today," - he gestured towards the quays where the five ships bobbed gently on the shallow waves in a hypnotising rhythm - "but what I really want to see for myself is that passion you have in this journey. You are a great leader and you know, Tadase, throughout all of this it somehow appears that I have found myself depending on you. I am astounded that I would allow myself to become so reliant, but it has made me realise that, really, I have far more faith in you than you may believe." He looked past the man and out to the sea and his eyes shone with the reflection of the sunlight on the water. "I realise that, when it comes to my daughter, I rely on you." And now he faced Tadase once again and their eyes were fastened in a lock from which neither could bring themselves to pull away from. "I rely on you to keep my daughter safe because I know that you are the best man for the job… And I really don't believe I could have found a better man for _her."_

"Your Majesty…" Tadase could not find the words to respond. His mouth opened and closed hopelessly like a flapping fish out of water as he tried and tried again to form a sentence, but no words were made - no sounds could form in his throat. He marvelled at the display of sincerity; the frankness; the pure blind _faith_ that was so unbelievably dangerous for a King to place in someone, yet somehow… he had. And he - the great King of Seiyo - had placed it in _him._

But it seemed that the King was not done. He swept his sorrow aside; replaced that tender gaze with one of piercing steel and there was an air of dignity about him now - an air of finesse and authority that Tadase had not seen him display in quite some time and, as he looked on, he found himself quite awed at the sight of this King of men. Tadase reached for a glass of liquor and watched, intrigued as His Majesty began earnestly;

“It must be said that I, after such a terrible thing has befallen, do not wish to see my dear daughter parted from us again once she is safely found,” he said and, on the other side of the table, Tadase had to agree. “This incident, well… Well, it has opened my eyes. No longer do I wish her to be found only to send her away to the east. No, once she is found and returned to us, I shall not be betrothing her to the eastern empire.”

Tadase’s heart began to thrum steadily in his chest, his eyes widening, startled. A little spark of hope pierced his heart as a ray of sunlight bursting through clouds. But, still, he listened on.

“I have been foolish, Commander.” Tsumugu said. “I was never blind to the way she looked at you - not even after the two of you were forced to call of your engagement. So, then, once she is with us again… It would be my pleasure to allow you her hand once more, Tadase.”

“I…”

Tadase was speechless. Utterly, _utterly_ speechless.

Amu; the woman he had been so harshly and unexpectedly torn from. Amu; for whom he had sworn his love and loyalty. _His_ Amu who only days ago had felt so far and distant; slipping beyond his grasp; a mere spot of pink on the horizon as she made her journey into the east, never to feel the warmth of his embrace nor realise his true devotion to her.

_‘Amu. Amu. Amu.’_

And suddenly there was much more weight on this mission than ever before. Suddenly there lay a hefty burden on the Commander’s shoulders; a more searing flame in his heart; a more desperate panic at the back of his mind… But he did not notice, for his soul was flying free as high as the colours of the ships outside as it sank in deep;

_‘I can find her,’_ he thought; _‘and never have to let her go.’_

“Y-Your _Majesty,”_ he managed to gasp out, his heart pounding. He was half-glad that he had thought to sit, for he felt his knees go weak to the bone. “Your Majesty, I am _flattered!”_

Tsumugu waved a hand, he and his wife barely restraining their grins. “Say no more of it, Tadase,”

“But, _sir-!”_

“Say no more,” the King repeated firmly and he stood, beckoning his wife to follow as he turned towards the door. “For my daughter - for _Amu_ \- there is no other I would wish her to marry.”

“Your Majesty!”

The two of them paused, glancing back to see Tadase, bent in the lowest bow he could manage.

“Your Majesties,” he said again, lower this time. “I am flattered. I can _assure_ you that I will do everything - _everything!_ \- that I can possibly do to retrieve your daughter safe and sound.”

The royals both smiled fondly at him;

“We know.”

And then they had gone - slipped out with their guards into the light of day and leaving Tadase in the quiet of the inn to vow for the umpteenth time that all would not be in vain. It would _not!_ He would carry out his promises and bring Amu Hinamori back safely. He would do all he could. He would make those responsible pay and then return to Seiyo with their daughter in tow and he would keep her from harm until his dying day because he would _never_ forgive himself if she were ever to succumb to those disgraceful cutthroats. He vowed and vowed the same religious vow over and over again until they were etched in his mind like carvings upon stone - until they were as solid and secure as the bow of the ship or the masts stood tall and proud against the sky.

And as he boarded the Seraphic Charm later that same afternoon, surrounded by navy men scurrying about the deck, and departed from his seaside town out into the unknown - out into the wild of the sea and the raw heat of the sun and out into perils he could not foresee - he glanced back at the retreating figures of His and Her Majesties and he knew that he could not bear to see them again without Amu on his arm.

Standing on the forecastle and staring out ahead at the sea, he wondered what on Earth he might encounter. The ocean was vast and untameable. The ocean seemed to sink into his very soul. It saturated his skin with salt and had his blood surging through his veins like the flow of the waves until he could not imagine ever existing in any other place that wasn’t ever-changing; ever-dynamic; ever-constant. He saw in his mind the legendary tales of buccaneers and buried gold; of maroons abandoned on faraway shores; of the evil deeds and evil ways of a pirate's life as they skipped from shore to shore, plundering and thieving and torching buildings and leaving all to wreck and ruin… And then, in amongst the fires and the smoke and the sea-battles of vicious, pirate Captains, there caught his eye a flash of pink - a pink-haired beauty emerged from the midst of battle, stood by the bow of some rugged vessel, calling out to the sea for anyone who may be listening - for anyone who might be called for help...

To think that Amu had been involved in such a free-for-all way of life caused dread to pool in his stomach.

_'Wait for me,'_ he silently said to the gorgeous woman, watching as her long locks flowed in the breeze;

_'Wait for me, Amu! Wait for me because I’ll be with you soon! As swiftly as the sun sets I shall find you and bring you back… Back to where you're meant to be.'_

The imaginary woman smiled gratefully and Tadase beamed back.

~.~.~

It was at times like this that the world stilled. It was at times like these that the very motion of the earth seemed to slow to a gradual halt; time itself stopping to rest as the day drew to a close. All that seemed to move was the gleam of sunlight upon the waves and the breaking of the foam of the surf as Tsukasa gazed out at the still calm of the ocean. He breathed the cool air, slow and steady, and he stared over the horizon where only hours earlier the first five ships had vanished over the horizon - mere smudges of white and brown in the distance, insignificant against the blue of the sea.

"Well… The start of the journey is moving quickly underway…" Tsukasa mused, leaning against the edge of his balcony. "Of course, the Commander paid no attention to my warnings… But no matter - I suppose it was merely a precaution. After all, the stars cannot be shifted so easily."

Or, so he hoped. But it was out of his hands. He could steer the stars himself as easily as he could keep smoke between his fingers. But still the voyage had begun and the pages had started to turn - a new chapter in the course of the heavens; a bold new voyage for those two bright constellations that would light up the sky each night like lanterns hung outside country inns to guide the way of travellers in the dark and here the mystic fortune-teller would stand on his balcony in the orange sunset, waiting for the night to fall so that the stars may act out their stories upon a heavenly stage that encompassed the globe for all to see - whether they be a Princess or a pirate or a King of men.

"Whoever you may be," he whispered faintly as he cast his eyes over the fading sky - as the ink of night began settle over the last of the sunset; "the stars will still gaze down just as brightly; just as strongly… No matter who…" he trailed off, but gathered his thoughts just as quickly. "In this wild race across the seven seas, I wonder how great a coincidence it must be for them to cross paths?"

And then, stark and bright against the purple of the oncoming darkness, he saw it - a single, tiny little pinprick of light had flared to life beneath the clouds and the man looked up with an _“Ah!”_ , the chinking of his cup and saucer faint and insignificant to his ears.

"My, my, the first star already." A light breath of laughter. The rustle of the wind. The gentle sigh of a seabird asleep in its nest, tucked beneath the roof of one of the balconies below. Tsukasa recognised this star as he recognised all of them. He knew its story; the strength of its light; he knew the pattern of the constellation it belonged to and he traced its outline with a finger, gazing upon it with all the warmth and fondness one would give an old friend. He smiled.

"Let us see where the tide may take it."

~.~.~


	13. Thirteen

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

The smoke that churned from within the hold of the battered sloop sluggishly drifted upwards into the grey sky, plunging the deck into shadow, one with the tragedy and catastrophe that had engulfed the once cheerful and light-hearted soul of the ship. The air would have sickened Tadase, so thick with the stench of death, yet he was a man already hardened by the needless destruction of naval warfare and, as he picked his way throughout the chaos, it was the pirate hunched over on the deck - held captive by two honest men of his own search party - that truly reminded the Commander why they had reduced this poor vessel to a smoking, blackened hull of debris and ash in the first place.

They had sighted this vessel two days ago, yet their chase was poor and half-hearted and, due to unpredictable winds and inconvenient currents, they had had to ease off the pursuit and had only now managed to stealthily intercept it as it made its way south towards some notorious pirate haven, no doubt. Tadase had nearly given up hope of gaining this ship - or the Devil’s Tune, as it was apparently known - but, as luck would have it, they had been hindered by an oncoming storm and it was that blessed ball of wind and rain that Tadase had to thank for the capture of the craft.

The battle between the two vessels had been unsurprisingly short-lived. After all, what little sloop could compete with a full-rigged man-of-war? They had been poor, relatively unsuccessful pirates with a shortage of arms and supplies only to last the next few days. Taking them out had been child’s play and so across the deck there lay the countless bodies of buccaneers who would have only been doomed to the hangman’s noose anyway - a humiliating, degrading end placed in the public square like a circus show. At the very least, Tadase thought to be cut down on the deck of their ship in battle seemed a cruel sort of compassion. They had died with whatever little dignity they could cling to.

He wafted still-smoking embers from his line of sight and strode forwards with all the authority he could muster, achieved through only years worth of good, loyal service to the Crown. Having killed most of the crew and searched the hold, all that remained was to interrogate the Captain - a scrawny, uncouth-looking fellow who had done quite a remarkable job of surviving the bloodshed and making it through the day just long enough to watch the Commander waltz his way through the rubble and onto the forecastle where the man knelt, tied at the wrists, his shoulders secured by the officers behind him - one of whom kept a hand free to dig his pistol into the side of his skull.

Tadase made a point of brushing back the edge of his coat as he placed his hands into his pockets. The pirate caught sight of his saber and musket gleaming in the low light. The man laughed, barking harshly. Tadase growled. To think that this man before him could be involved in Amu’s disappearance made him utterly furious. At the very least, Her Highness should have been involved with a man who showed a little more decorum. But he had to save his anger for later - until he knew for definite who the dirty scumbag was and so he simply unhooked his sabre from his belt, easing it through the air effortlessly and placing it against the man’s throat. He looked down with a steely determination in his eyes - cold and unforgiving - because he was there for answers. And answers he _would_ get.

The pirate on the floor just looked at him for a moment before his thin mouth twisted into a mocking smirk. “Those’re the eyes of a madman, lad.”

But Tadase would not allow the man to taunt him so easily. He settled for pressing the blade further alongside the side of his neck, restraining himself only so far as to thinly cut, but he tightened his grip on the hilt as if to make it quite clear that he would not hesitate to take the man’s head off if her must. The pirate glanced down at the trickle of blood that began to drip onto his filthy collar. He looked as if he wanted to laugh.

“But a _scratch!”_

“I shan’t be so gentle next time,” Tadase warned lowly; “you _pirate.”_

“Lad,” the Captain began, rolling his eyes, exasperated; “I know what it is you’ve gone desecrated my ship for and I can _tell_ ya - I don’ know where Her Maj’sty’s gone! I haven’t the foggiest, lad! But I can _assure_ you, my man, you won’ find her here!”

Tadase said nothing, but glanced up at the officer who had his pistol aimed at the man’s head. In answer, the officer nodded;

“It’s true that we’ve searched the decks below, Commander, and we’ve found no trace of evidence to suggest that Her Highness has made her way through here. _He-”_ \- he nudged the pirate in the back with his boot - “-is quite insistent, Sir. You may not like it, Sir, but I doubt _these_ men would have been able to pull off such a scheme.”

The second officer scoffed. “This lot weren’t even able to rob themselves enough provisions! They ran out of powder after ten minutes of fire!”

Taking this information in, Tadase frowned to himself. Then, after a minute of two, he sighed heavily and, with reluctance, slowly sheathed his sword. “We’ll take him back to Seiyo as prisoner - as with the others.” he decided eventually. “Most of these men may have been slain at sea, but they shall all face their judgement under the justice of the law upon our return.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“And I shall interrogate this rogue further upon our return to the Seraphic Charm.” he added, turning away.

“Yes, Sir.”

Tadase couldn’t bring himself to look at the pirate as he was dragged back to their ship, being kicked and prodded along by the two men either side of him and yelling behind him;

_“God’s speed, my lad! God’s speed!”_

He did not look back until the man's cries had vanished and all once more was immersed in nothing but the thick smoke and the heat of the dying fire and the hiss of the froth on the waves. Standing alone on the deck of the ruined ship, he rubbed his temples and told himself one more time - for the _thousandth_ time - that, though this would not be easy, though this may be the greatest challenge he would ever face; that they _would_ eventually find their Princess even it it took him to the end of the world and back again. 

He did not turn around until the man's cries had vanished and then, standing alone on the deck of the ship, he rubbed his temples and told himself one more time that this would not be easy; that they _would_ eventually find his fiancée even if it took him to the end of the world and back again. He saw the bodies scattered across the floor - a grim warning to any other rogue who crossed the now-abandoned sloop's path; a reminder that the navy would put an end to their unlawful lives on behalf of the King; a reminder that the Royal Navy was on a mission and that this was how far they were willing to go if the fate of Her Highness hung in the balance. A royal flag fluttered in the breeze high above, the pirate's own colours torn to shreds at the base of the mast. It was a depressing scene, but a meaningful one. A warning one. 

"Commander?"

Tadase turned to find the Captain of his own vessel beckoning him back onto the ship. Apparently there had been sightings of another pirate ship to the south-west - an unusual location for this time of year - and he hurried back over, eager to get the journey there underway. Drifting away, he glanced back at the ruined sloop and wondered how many more would end that way until they had reached their Princess.

~.~.~

In the month that had passed, Amu could have confidently said that she’d become used to her new way of life on the Shining Black. Not that that made the situation any less worrying or, at times, frightening, but she supposed it was only natural that after so long she would grow accustomed to these roguish characters and the structure of this grand, most impressive ship.

Though many of the days and weeks that passed were virtually the same (up at dawn; work through the day; scrub and toil and sweat beneath the sun; return to bed; etc.), in a way it helped. She knew now the details of their routines. She knew who was most likely to work where; she knew most of their shifts; and she had learnt about their rather vague pecking order, although, in reality, there wasn’t really any sort of order unless you looked very closely. The Captain himself was ever at the top, of course, yet there was no single quartermaster which Amu still found very perplexing. Rather, there were a significant group of burly brutes - those very same figures that Amu was sure she had seen the night of her capture - that still from time to time crept back into her nightmares and left her waking suddenly in a cold sweat - who seemed to all share the ‘quartermaster’ status. The Princess never managed to catch them working so much or as hard as any of the other crew members. Most often, aside from the occasional onslaught of heavy labour, she would see them surveying the men, stood stock still as statues about the deck, casting their dark eyes about everyone who passed. But, occasionally, after dark, Amu thought that she could hear them stomping with heavy boots past her door and down the corridor, heading for the Captain’s quarters. She tried best to avoid them. Not to mention, it seemed to her as if they were still definitely going out of their way to carry on intimidating her.

Amu had long stopped paying attention to them - trying to brush off their hard stares and pointed glances as easy as dust on the back of her shoulder. She had too stopped trying to understand their unorthodox ranks. She was far too used to being towards the bottom of the ship’s hierarchy that it didn’t much matter; not when almost every man remained above her. She was used to that order; she was used to being woken up at the first light of day with but a scrap of food to keep her going and she was fairly sure that she had been reduced by now to a mere bag of bones and skin; underweight and near malnourished. She had far less energy than when she had first set to work on the Shining Black. No matter how hard she still tried to maintain that positive air, she was starting to face the fact that her body just simply couldn’t take it. Every day was dragging by slower; every day she had to rest sooner; and each night she found herself practically stumbling back into bed, slipping into a restless sleep without even the strength to undress.

But the thing that Amu found most bothered her - the thing that kept her up tossing and turning in the dead of night in spite of her fatigue - was that, so far, still not a word had been breathed of the Captain’s intentions with her. A month it had been and she still had not a clue. It drove her mad. It had her close to screaming. It was maddening and infuriating; the pure frustration ate away at her frazzled mind. He wanted the Lock, that much was plain, but _why? Why?_ And where did he have it? _Where_ had he kept it? If he knew she had worn it the night of her capture then why would he hide it from her?

_‘Why?’_

And, what was more, Ikuto still wouldn’t give in to her. Ikuto still insisted on playing the silent game - on acting as though nothing had happened, refusing to break before she did. That too drove her mad, but she knew better than to complain lest she face the wrath of Captain Ichinomiya and his freshly-sharpened cutlass.

Otherwise, there was not much to say. The crew remained lively and rambunctious (if overworked); the Captain as cold as the blade of a knife; and life had carried on in the exact same way as the day Amu had first set foot upon the Shining Black. They had narrowly avoided one bad storm (although Amu had not been present to witness their near peril as the squall had been sighted hours before she had even risen from the comfort of her bed) and over the course of the last two weeks they had seen three ships dotted against the horizon. Not of the Royal Navy, much to the pleasure and relief of the crew members, but they had instead been identified as likely merchant ships headed west for the trade markets between Seiyo and the great continent to the east. “Too puny,” Kukai had said to her as the two of them had stood aft and watched the far-off sails sink out of sight; “tiny little commercial brig, looks like it. Not worth our time, if ya ask me.” So he’d said and Amu had sighed, dispirited. It was a strange, melancholy feeling to gaze upon those distant vessels - staring with her own two eyes at these ships so strongly linked with the civilised world she knew and came from, yet out of reach from here in this new, untamed and lawless world she had found herself caught up in. It seemed as if normal life was far beyond her grasp as those three ships vanished from sight… and Amu had found herself feeling more isolated than ever before.

Apart from that though, life in this alternate world carried on as normal on the Shining Black and Amu was beginning to wonder if she would ever manage to escape at all. In fact, it had kept her up for most of the night. She had spent her evening restless with worry in her dark little cabin. She was unsure what time she had even managed to drift asleep, but it didn’t much matter because not even a few hours later it would be time to rise for another day’s work.

Having become accustomed to waking at these God-awful, ridiculously early hours of the morning, Amu’s sleeping patterns had shifted to match her wake-up alarm of Ikuto rapping on the door was a tray of food (if she was lucky, these days. She wondered if their stores were low or whether Ikuto’s generosity was lacking) or perhaps (if she was luckier) a change of clothes. She didn’t know where or how Captain Ichinomiya had procured such an array of women’s clothing, but she didn’t ask. She thought that perhaps they might have been Utau’s, though she hadn’t had the chance to ask, for she hadn’t caught so much as a glimpse of the elusive women ever since their first meeting late that night. The thought made her a little wary of using them. She had a feeling that the blonde across the corridor wouldn’t be too thrilled with her wearing her clothes, but she had no choice and so each morning she went through her regular routine of eating and dressing without complaint until Ikuto returned to fetch her for work...

But straight away it dawned on her that this morning was strange. Though Amu was by now starting to accept her lack of energy, the lethargy today was almost too much to bear. She felt as though each day so far had been but a mere trifle in comparison to the weight that seemed to press upon her body - as if all those days of weariness and fatigue had been slowly building up, as a wave of a tsunami gains gradually, to hit her all at once.

Amu groaned. In a movement that seemed to take all the effort left in her body, she managed to raise her head from the scratchy pillow and peel open her eyes wide enough to let in the light of the early morning sunrise. It was as though a thick, grey fog hung over her. The light stung even through her bleary vision and she closed her eyes again with a pained grumble. Her head pounded. Her back ached. Hell, even her _mouth_ hurt. It was as if her head had been battered with something hard and heavy. She sighed angrily, facedown into her bedcovers. It seemed that at last some sort of illness had befallen her - something she had anticipated at the very start of her stay, to be honest, what with all those filthy men about her and the questionable state of cleanliness down in the very bottom of the hold. She had recently forgotten all of those anxieties - pushed to the back of her mind and replaced with other, more pressing issues such as the mystery surrounding her Humpty Lock, but right now she couldn’t have cared less about that Lock or whatever the hell Ichinomiya wanted with it. Not when she was aching and sore; not when her mood had long since plummeted all the way down to the keel of the ship and was now probably drowning miserably in the constant attack of the waves. Perhaps she could avoid work for the day, she thought slightly more positively. Perhaps in her groggy, drained state Ikuto would see that she was unfit for duty. Would a pirate be that generous, she wondered, even if it was Ikuto? Amu thought this over for a moment, adjusting to try and roll over onto her back-

_“Agh!”_

-only to wince audibly in pain as her skin caught fire at the mere brush of her bedsheets. Stunned, but determined, Amu grit her teeth and forced herself to sit upright. She flung back the covers and ignored the sudden dizzy spell that overcame her.

The first shock came upon spotting the tiny red patches that covered her skirt. Her heart thumped loudly. Amu desperately tried to ignore it, but she couldn’t deny that panic was starting to take a hold of her. There was no reason for this, nor any reason for her to sting as though she’d just rolled in a bed of nettles, she thought, hissing as she leaned forwards and pulled back the hem of her nightgown.

Red and angry splotches had begun to cover her legs. Amu remembered watching a painter working on a portrait of her father once - dressed in ruby red and shimmering gold - and she remembered the splatter of crimson paint about the linen at his feet… The déjà vu was sickening. It was as if someone had flicked a dirty paintbrush over the canvas of her skin. They were as tiny as pin-pricks, yet all gathered and clumped together, raw and harsh. She ran a finger over one particularly dark patch of bloody spots and immediately wished she hadn’t. It flared beneath her touch and Amu groaned - half in pain and half with dread. What kind of dreadful illness ( _disease_ even?) could she have possibly found herself lumbered with. What sort of God-damned pirate ailment had she wound up unlucky enough to contract? That had her blood apparently escaping through unseen wounds?

_“God curse these bloody pirates!”_ she whispered into the empty cabin, falling back against her pillows, the weight of her headache dragging her down with a thump. She prayed that Ikuto would see her unfit for work that day. And, as it turned out, she didn’t have to wait for very long to find out because at that moment she heard the thudding of familiar boots outside in the corridor. She lay in silence and waited.

There was a knock at the door - a loud, resounding knock that had her headache pounding in her skull - and then it swung open and in sauntered the man himself.

“Rise and shine.” Ikuto said, deadpanned, speaking in that shattered tone of voice that made Amu wonder if he’d only just risen himself. He was carrying an even smaller breakfast than the day before. He placed the tray on the table. “Get ready and I’ll be back-”

He stopped. Amu’s eyes were closed, but she knew then that he’d noticed the state she was in. Perhaps it was the lack of a response or perhaps it was the fact that she hadn’t even bothered to cover herself in bed. Normally the very thought of Ikuto seeing her nightdress would make her mortified, but, right now, Amu couldn’t bring herself to care.

_“Hey-”_

She felt a hand lightly shake her shoulder. Amu’s eyes snapped open and found Ikuto bent over her, his gaze meeting hers, his blue eyes wide and alert. He was close - so close that she could feel his breath on her cheeks. Though hot and flustered, she grumbled. “I’m awake, I’m _awake!”_ her voice was scratchy and half-hearted. She weakly brushed him away and tried to sit back up without grimacing. “What do you expect from me at this hour?”

Ikuto looked down at her, watching attentively as she stiffly attempted to prop herself up. He sighed, sounding somewhat exasperated and, surprisingly gently, took her by the arm to steady her as she sat. “No offence, Your Highness,” he began; “but you look like death.” (Amu just snorted in a rather undignified fashion.) “And you’re burning like hell.” 

She elected to ignore him, though she was half-thinking of thanking him as he helped her straighten. He fetched her a drink from the tray on the table and threw back the last of the covers that she had managed to drape over herself. And it was then that he saw the state of her skirt. Amu froze. There was a darkness over his face.

“Ikuto-?”

“Sit up straight.”

He said it so urgently that her body obeyed before she could stop herself. “What-What are you doing?” Ikuto didn’t answer. He knelt down in front of her and his fingertips brushed over the ruined fabric of her skirt. Amu squeaked a little in shock and shook his hand away as quickly as she could manage, cheeks burning, aghast. “What on _earth do you think you’re doing?”_

Ikuto shot her a frosty look so full of impatience that for a moment Amu felt like a small child being scolded by their parent - being told to be a good little girl and to stop being to stubborn and silly. Suddenly embarrassed, Amu wanted to scoot away and hide back under her covers - another child-like reaction that she was far from proud of. Ikuto must have noticed, she realised, because after a second or so he forcibly rid his face of exasperation, took a steadying breath and stressed clearly; 

“I _need_ to see how bad it is, Amu.”

She met his gaze. It was calm now - tranquil and azure as the sky and sea outside - but there was still something veiled somewhere inside. Amu thought she saw them flicker in a look of concern she’d never seen before and that awful, childish feeling that she hated so badly melted away enough for her to simply nod and loosen her grip on the hem of her skirt. It was a silent acceptance and Ikuto understood it.

“I’m not going to do anything bad to you,” he said earnestly. Amu barely noticed her breath hitch in her throat. Ikuto was staring up at her now - his eyes so clear and cobalt and sincere… But then it was ruined, for he chuckled teasingly; “Was Her Highness perhaps thinking of naughty things?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, pervert.” was all she could bring herself to say, burning with humiliation. He looked far too amused with himself (the damned pirate), but she looked on apprehensively all the same as he carefully eased back the layers of her skirt. Amu realised she must have been blushing quite brilliantly. A wave of giddiness overcame her, her skin burning, flustered. She was about ready to pass out by the time Ikuto reached her thighs and she was silently grateful that it was there that he stopped. Any higher and, forget passing out, there was no way he would’ve been allowed to set foot back in her cabin again - however badly plagued by illness she might have been. 

“God, Amu,” his stunned tone brought her back to the present. Ikuto frowned up at her. “How long have you felt like this?”

Amu couldn’t respond. The sight of her own skin made her feel sick. Patches of it on her thighs had burst out into angry outbreaks twice or three times the size of those on her calves - some dotted bright and sparkling morbidly like tiny glass beads - like red raindrops against a white rose. Now exposed in the cool air they itched maddeningly and she hissed as Ikuto ever so gently ran a thumb across the biggest patch in front of him. She nearly kicked him away. He mumbled something unintelligible. 

“Let me see the back,” he uttered absent-mindedly, his brows narrowed and focused as he scrutinised her symptoms. She raised her legs by a fraction. Ikuto rolled his eyes. “Not quite the time to be so conservative, Princess,” he bit back a smile in disbelief. “Come on, Amu,” he said. 

Blue and honest and concerned. Amu had never expected such things to be found in the eyes of a pirate… And yet here they were. 

Amu’s heart almost faltered. Perhaps it was whatever illness working mischief with her head; perhaps it was the fuzziness about her muddled brain; perhaps it was was the unexpected faint sensation that had overwhelmed her or the honesty in Ikuto’s eyes… 

He looked up at her; 

“Let me _help.”_

And, whatever it was, Amu did. 

Ikuto apparently deemed this acceptable enough and cocked his head, craning to get a better view of the state of the backs of her legs. The expression on his face was enough for Amu to guess that whatever was there was even worse, but by now she was too far gone to care - far too absorbed in the heat that had overcome her cheeks; in the unexpected tenderness with which he trailed his hands across her thighs, so slowly and carefully as if she would crumble beneath his touch, careful not to disturb the worst of the inflamed patches that riddled her skin, deliberately weaving and twisting his way between them unless he needed to. Ikuto’s hands were calloused, his skin scrubbed by sea salt, and yet his fingertips drew patterns so soft and delicate… And Amu thought for a second that this couldn’t be the touch of a pirate. A pirate’s hands were made for force - for destruction. For lighting torches and sparking cannonfire and raping and pillaging… A pirate’s life was callous... But Ikuto was not and she thought then that, no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t put the two together. That short spell of vertigo from before was lessening, but her heart was thudding away, less frantic and flustered, but steady now - strong and unwavering, sending little jolts of warmth throughout her chest as she found herself bound, entranced, focused on Ikuto’s skin on hers…

He brushed a soft, sensitive spot beside her knee and Amu’s heartbeat skipped, her chest fit to burst, cheeks pooling with heat because, oh God, it suddenly dawned on her that Ikuto was seeing things - so many parts of her that none had ever seen before. It was so indecent, so improper of her… But the warmth was so pleasant and he was being so attentive. He had subconsciously rested his spare hand on her calf as he dabbed and cleaned away at a bloody spot beneath. She broke out into goosebumps. Her mind was a mess.

“I-Ikuto,” Amu managed to stutter. She’d been holding her breath without even realising it. “A-Are you done?” She didn’t like to admit it, but it was a hesitant question - one only pushed to the tip of her tongue under the sudden overwhelming sense of shame, for she was a noble woman, after all. No one but her husband should have ever seen so much skin and yet here she was, head reeling as this- this _scoundrel_ invited himself in... 

Amu bit her lip. Somehow the word ‘scoundrel’ didn’t quite sit well with her anymore.

Ikuto, on the other hand, had been so focused that he seemed oblivious to the turmoil warring in Amu’s mind. He surveyed the situation once more before letting go and rising once more to his feet. “It’s the worse case of scurvy I’ve seen in a long time,” he said almost to himself. The fire beneath Amu’s skin was quenched instantly at the very mention of that dreaded sailor’s disease. He must have noticed the look of fear on her face because he shook his head and went on reassuringly; “Calm down, it can be treated.”

Amu sighed in relief. “You’re sure?”

“It may be unpleasant,” Ikuto said and he grimaced a little to himself, apparently swamped by equally unpleasant memories; “but it’s not the first case I’ve seen.” And he began to stride back towards the door. “Wait here, I’ll be right back.”

And the door swung shut and Amu sat, feeling all of a sudden very drained again, in the silence of her little cabin. She was sure her face was still pink and her legs felt cold. She caught herself and hurriedly shoved her skirt back down. What was she thinking? How could she have just sat back and let him handle her so? She had always been uncomfortable with having her skin on show. When she had been happily living at home back at the palace and when she had stood on her balcony beneath the stars and dreamed of days to come even the thought of allowing _Tadase_ such access on their wedding night had been too much to bear. She blamed a lifetime of being smothered by shawls and sleeves; of being laden in billowing skirts and heavy jewels and layers upon layers of petticoats - not to mention those dreaded corsets.

Exhausted, Amu shook her head frantically as if it would rid her face of that damned blush. Ikuto would never be so lucky again in his life, she vowed, nor would she allow herself to dwell upon that intoxicating touch…

“Oh God,” Amu groaned aloud. It was replaying itself within her mind - rough fingertips on soft, supple skin; gliding, skating as easily as on water. “My parents would be _ashamed.”_ she mumbled. How shameful, she thought, to think that the royal daughter could be reduced so easily - tainted with such vulgar feelings at the touch of a _buccaneer._

_“Well...”_ Amu’s eyes snapped up, her mind jolting back to the here and now as Ikuto reappeared in the doorway, smirking slyly and striding so casually across her cabin. He looked positively mischievous. “You look flustered, Your Highness. I thought you weren’t imagining naughty things.”

Amu twitched. Stirring his touch may have been when she was helpless and off-guard, but his voice, though she would hate to have admitted it, was spine-tingling whenever, teasing or not.

“I’m _sick,”_ Amu thought quickly; “I’m _feverish._ And besides, I thought you were going to help me!” she said, though perhaps more forcefully than she meant to. “It’s the least you can do now that you’ve physically assaulted me.” 

Ikuto just shook his head and tossed something towards her. She caught it not a second too late. “Here.” he said. “One of these with breakfast a day. You’ll start to feel better again.”

Amu looked down at the fleshy, yellow fruit in her hand and frowned. “You’ve brought me a lemon?” Ikuto hummed in acknowledgement. He was ambling over to the table and he picked up her tray of food and brought it over to the bed, setting it down beside her. Amu studied the fruit as thoroughly and closely as her father inspected all of his contracts and treaties - as carefully as the pirate in front of her had examined her bleeding limbs. She fought back a hot flush. “So,” she began slowly; “you’re telling me that I have been sat here bleeding and lethargic all this time and all I really need is a _lemon?”_

This time Ikuto actually laughed - clear and full of pure mirth - and it caught her off-guard. Lord knew he probably hadn’t done so in a very long time. And then he rolled his eyes again at her and held out his hand for the item in question. She handed it to him wordlessly, the sound of his laugh still ringing in her ears, her eyes bright and wide as she looked up at him. Ikuto unsheathed a small blade from the inside of his left boot (and cast her a cheeky look as if he was sharing some sort of secret) and sliced the fruit in his palm. Amu took half. She winced as the harsh juice ran down and over her wrist, making all her sores and blisters scream in protest.

Meanwhile, Ikuto stared at her with intrigue. Amu was eyeing the fruit as if it were some sort of dangerous object - as if it were something unpredictable and threatening not to be taken lightly, like a weapon or a fistful of powder.

“What?” he said, the humour creeping back into his deep, throaty voice. “You’ve never eaten a lemon before?” The annoyed scowl he received in response made him want to laugh out loud again, but he restrained himself (just barely) and let out a weary breath, accepting after a while that he wasn’t going to get any sort of verbal reply. “Alright,” he resigned; “if you don’t want it, that’s your choice. Just eat the rest and get ready. I’ll be back in half an hour... And don’t take those lightly.” He warned. “If you stop eating them you’ll just be right back where you started again.” And he paused at the door and smirked, watching as she went back to scanning her eyes over her lemon. She caught his eye for a second and looked away quickly, embarrassed.

_‘I can’t believe it,’_ Ikuto thought to himself as he closed the door shut behind him. _‘She’s hilarious.’_

That smirk still playing upon his lips, he rested his head back against the doorframe and waited.

As predicted, around five minutes later all that could be heard through the crack in the door was a series of splutters and curses. Leaning against the wall of the corridor, Ikuto chuckled lightly, a playful spark dancing in his dark eyes like never before. 

_‘You’ll need to get used to that, Your Highness.’_

~.~.~


	14. Fourteen

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

Utau would have thought by now, after all these endless years upon _years_ aboard this God-forsaken ship, that she would have known when to trust her gut. After all, relying on her instincts for survival had become a part of daily life. She knew who to avoid; where to hide; she knew and recognised those little signs that told her that she was being watched - that she was in someone’s line of sight and she knew that that could only mean one thing. She had to get away. She had to retreat - _fast_ , for she had been caught in the claws of those thugs of the Captain’s far too many times for her to count, nor would she ever wish to recall them.

So Utau felt extremely angry with herself - disappointed even - when she failed to acknowledge that natural nagging feeling at the back of her mind; the clenching in her stomach; the sweat gathering upon her palms. Utau knew that she shouldn’t have come out today. Really, she _knew_ it, but, for some reason she had against her better judgement decided to emerge from her cabin and onto the quarterdeck for the first time in… Well, she couldn’t even remember how long. And somehow it all still felt so unreal, yet familiar at the same time. She itched to crawl back inside - to lock herself back in her cabin again and hide away, shrinking into the background and out of memory for perhaps another month or so… But she had already taken the plunge. She had already been seen in the light of day - already been clocked by the more pleasant members of the crew.

Utau held her head as high as she could bring herself to do so. People were staring now. Whispering. Muttering. Looking on in awe. Not that she hadn’t expected it - she had been cooped up inside that cabin for weeks on end now. But still, to be under their ever-present scrutiny as she made her way across the quarterdeck made the hairs stand up on the back of her neck; it had goosebumps jumping up to the surface of her skin; had her heart thudding in her chest. All she wanted to do was to retreat. But no, not this time. Not today. _Not_ when she’d spent all morning summoning up the courage to venture outside - her pride would not allow it! Besides, the sun would do her good, she thought, and the air was fresher out here than the pitiful breeze her cabin window allowed in. 

_‘All I have to do,’_ Utau thought far more calmly than she felt, making her way down the companionway and ignoring the pointed stares from a group of burly men nearby; _‘is get to work - perhaps down below, if I can find it. I can think of something to do. I’ll do anything! I’ll scrub the gun deck; I’ll empty the galley! Act normally and these foul creatures will lose interest in an hour…’_

Speaking of which, Utau could see the hatchway that led down below in plain sight now. It was only a few paces away. The blonde dug her nails into her palms, determined. She frantically made a few calculations in her head and concluded that she would be able to reach it before anyone came near her. That group of buccans (ugly, wretched men who she was sure passed her cabin towards Kazuomi’s quarters each night) were staring more overtly now and Utau was keen to get out of their way before they came within reaching distance. She took a breath, glared at the beasts, testing her limits, and marched over towards the hatch with all the outward confidence and resolve of the full-grown woman she wanted to be, yet inside she was shaking - a quivering, pathetic mess of a little girl surrounded by schoolyard bullies.

But she wouldn’t let them bother her anymore, she told herself. Never again.

_‘Honestly!’_ Utau thought to herself. _‘How can_ she _stand to come out here every day? Does she not feel it? Does she not feel as I do? Do they not treat_ her _the same?’_

And, as if on cue, Utau’s eyes fell upon that very woman who had begun to frustrate her so, even if she didn’t know exactly why.

Princess Hinamori was on the far side of the deck - on the opposite gangway, at the end of a row of scrubbers, hunched over her brush and bucket and apparently in physical pain as she tried to drag it across the planks. Utau has stopped in her tracks without even realising it. She sighed. What a pitiful sight. Had she not been doing that exact same work throughout her entire time on their ship? And yet still she couldn’t even manage a _brush?_ But, then again, Utau mused, this was the life of the rich and noble - everything done for for; never having to lift a finger in your entire life and sitting on a pedestal for all to admire and yet the only reason you have but a penny to your name is all because your ancestors worked far harder than you ever did…

With that thought, Utau thought that she felt the weight of frustration ease off her shoulders just a little. Yes, she may have been sleep-deprived and underweight and still so shaky as she stepped outside the safety of her cabin, but at least when it came down to it she was made of stronger stuff. Did just being out here today not prove it? At least _she_ could look after herself - _she_ could lift a bloody scrubbing brush, she had the upper hand here on this ship…

Or, at least, that’s what Utau had thought until she saw the blood.

She gasped. “Oh God,” she mumbled, more in surprise than horror as her eyes were drawn to the dark stains smeared across the Princess’ lower back - just visible through the fabric of her dress, pooling at the front of her dress where her knees rested against her skirt, rubbed raw and open as she knelt against the deck. Stunned, Utau watched as Amu still - _still,_ despite all of this - continued on with her work, face creasing as she lowered her hands into her bucket of water. Her nails were probably bleeding too.

In her mind, midnight blue suddenly mixed with crimson red and Utau recoiled at the memory. She had never experienced scurvy - that dreaded sailor’s disease, the unwelcome killer feared by many men at sea - but she had cared for someone who had. Twelve years old and powerless to help; powerless to bend the Captain’s will… It had been one of the most distressing periods of her life.

_‘No one,’_ Utau thought suddenly; _‘should be subjected to such torment.’_

And then, inexplicably even to her, her plan to lay low and escape into the darkness of the hold was scrapped. Utau couldn’t just stand and watch as one of those slave-driving brutes over there pushed and shoved the Princess aside and drove her to death, letting her bleed out onto the planks. If Utau remembered correctly (and she doubted that she would ever forget) the best cure for scurvy was citrus and plenty of rest. She briefly wondered why Kazuomi would allow her to labour like this, for surely he wanted his captive to be in perfect help? But it didn’t matter. Utau felt herself overcome by pity - an emotion she truly _loathed_ \- as she remembered the groans and the shallow breathing and the lethargic ill-health of her brother all those years ago...

And Utau changed course and strode over to the Princess across the deck. She reasoned that there should always be at least _one_ woman to stand up to the brutes aboard this ship. Utau had tried to be that woman - tried to stand up on her own two feet, immovable and steadfast, if only to prove that the Captain had not yet completely sapped the Tsukiyomi family’s strength… And yet Amu had probably beaten her to it. 

_“Outta y’r cage, sweetness?”_

A brute stood in Utau’s way. A second was sliding over astonishingly swiftly for his weight. She almost growled at them, but she caught herself and reminded herself to keep her cool as she slipped expertly past them. The only time they ever spoke was to harass her in some way and she’d had far more than enough of it. Yet there was nothing she could do. One reached out to grab a fine, blonde pigtail, but she tugged it back just as quickly and scoffed at– at _it._ She’d dream of slapping it right across its greasy, crooked face and slashing at its throat; she’d fantasize about letting it tumble overboard and hanging it from the bowsprit later on that night, but, wish as she may, Utau still did not dare lay a finger on them.

_“Filthy_ animals!” she spat, storming away as fast as her legs could take her and she sighed. She had so desperately tried to be the strong one – to lessen the burden on her brother – but somehow it had gone straight out the window.

_‘How pathetic.’_

When she reached Amu, she just about threw herself down onto her knees, fighting back an uncharacteristic flush, and brusquely grabbed a spare brush.

Amu blinked for a moment in disbelief. _“Utau?”_ she wiped the sweat from her brow and squinted in the sunlight, wondering if perhaps her exhaustion had finally started to make her hallucinate. Her cheeks were pale in spite of the heat and her hands were bloodier than they had been the day before. “Utau? What- What are you doing _here?”_

Utau scoffed. “Oh, stop stammering and get to work!”

Amu watched, bewildered as the blonde knelt beside her and fiercely began to scrub at the hard, muck-encrusted spots that she had failed to lift. Stumped, she could only bring herself to stare for a good few moments.

“Utau…” Amu began uncertainly. She waited, but Utau was apparently ignoring her as she worked. Amu didn’t care. _“Thank you.”_

Finally, Utau paused for the briefest of seconds. Lilac eyes flickered up, dazzling in the daylight. “Don’t mention it.” She brushed the Princess’ gratitude aside with a quick shrug and began scrubbing again. “Besides,” she said resolutely; “these planks need to be spotless in case the Captain comes out… You’re hardly _fit_ for it.”

All bark, but absolutely no bite. Amu bit back a small smile and looked away, picking up her abandoned brush and working around Utau who huffed and sighed half-heartedly as she worked her frustration onto the deck of the ship. She couldn’t figure it out. Utau just couldn’t work out whether she was more annoyed with Amu or with herself. God, she was frustrated - so badly that she couldn’t even begin to shake it, but, glancing at the pink-haired woman beside her, she gradually thought that she was beginning to understand.

Why did she suffer? Why had her life become this hell - this prison; this purgatory afloat on a never-ending ocean? Amu - she had only been here among them for a single month and yet… Why wasn’t Amu as afraid as she was? They didn’t treat her as they had treated Utau. They hadn’t tormented _her_ day and night for years on end - tugging her pigtails; grabbing her thighs; shoving her between them like a toy because they knew that their Captain permitted it, _encouraged_ it even. How did _she_ have the confidence to stand out here and brave the burning stares of those thugs and return to her cabin after work each night with no more than a scratch or sore and so _willingly_ comply… And Utau couldn’t so much as step outside into the corridor without trembling, shaking like a leaf, wondering how far they might take their antics today, for fear they might push her to the brink yet _again_ … When she - _Utau_ \- should have been so much stronger, should have been so much physically stronger to withstand it all… Why was Amu so different?

Utau tried to breathe steadily. She could feel her eyes beginning to burn. She roughly shook her head and tried to will them away because she’d be _damned_ if any of the others were to catch even a _hint_ of weakness. _‘Why must I be so childish?’_ she asked herself, shameful, loathing the petty jealousy that gnawed away inside her. _‘Why do I succumb to such childish envy?’_

Utau didn’t even notice the way Amu looked at her with concern or the way she shuffled closer, leaning in to whisper gently;

“Utau-”

_“Amu!”_

Both women looked up at the familiar voice that rang out across the deck. In the distance, Ikuto was ambling up from the hold, hauling himself up the steps and avoiding the hustle and bustle of their fellow workers.

“Ikuto?”

Beside her, Utau stiffened. There was a loud _‘clunk!’_ ing sound as her brush hit the deck and before Amu could even blink, the strange woman was up and on her feet, blonde pigtails trailing behind her as she scurried away, flying across the deck and ducking over towards the forecastle and out of sight.

_‘Utau?’_ Amu was perplexed. _‘What a strange woman. What was all that about?’_

“Amu,” Ikuto’s shadow fell across her kneeling form. When she looked up, he towered above her, his hair glowing in the sun and melting into the deep, azure blue of the sky. He gave the big brute of a pirate who had been overseeing their work a sharp stare. It appeared to be a silent command of some sort. The man nodded ever so slightly before plodding off, much to Amu’s delight. 

“I’m afraid your day isn’t over yet, Amu,” Ikuto said once the other pirate had gone; “but you should probably rest for an hour inside.” And his eyes narrowed upon seeing the stains on her skirt. “I assume you have no objections?” 

It wasn’t really a question, but somewhere deep down under that firm exterior, Amu was sure she could discern just the slightest hint of concern. She smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Ikuto.”

And her smile was transformed instantly into a sunny beam as she watched Ikuto extend a hand, wordlessly offering his assistance. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Amu told herself that it was only an act of kindness due to her feeling unwell, but she pushed the feeling down. Unwell or not, it was an act of kindness nonetheless. Not to mention, Amu had never been permitted a break in her cabin during the day before. To think that Ikuto had thought to relieve her of her duties, even if only for a single hour, had her spirits soaring. 

Amu grasped his hand firmly, feeling the heat of his skin upon hers, and her cheeks began to burn. Her fingers dusted over patches rough and smooth - traced over the very fingertips that had etched their way over the surface of her thighs, tracing up her calves, over her skin so soft and delicate… 

Back in the present, Ikuto’s lips twitched slightly. “You look like you’re burning.” 

Amu could practically feel the steam rising from her face. The gentle caress of his skin on hers was still playing in her head; the way he had handled her so gently making her pulse race. She half-yanked her hand from his and folded her arms as if all he had seen of her that morning would be firmly and securely locked away forever. 

“I-It _is_ pretty hot out…” she said pathetically. She held her head low, fighting to protect her blush from his prying eyes. She barely even noticed as he leaned over, lips against her ear and whispered teasingly; 

_“Are you thinking naughty thoughts again?”_

“I- _Ikuto!”_

Amu growled, watching as he straightened up and gestured for her to follow him back across the deck. Oh, how her skin prickled. How she so badly wished to snap at him; to smack him out of his devious mood… But one look at his eyes - bright and alive and gleaming with mischief - took the words right out of her mouth. 

“N-No dirtier than yours…” she mumbled eventually. She hadn’t thought he’d be able to hear it, so soft and gentle her voice was amongst the clamour and uproar of the deck of the Shining Black. But ahead of her, Ikuto chuckled lightly. Her heart skipped and effectively stunned her to silence. 

“Just don’t work yourself too hard,” Ikuto said to her as he was unlocking her cabin door. “Otherwise you’ll just feel worse than you already are.” He added, his eyes suddenly dull as if in remembrance of some long forgotten torment, but it was gone as quick as it came and, after a moment’s thought, Amu could only link it to the dim light of the corridor. 

“Oh, I’m feeling fine.” she said simply, strolling into the cool of her cabin. “Nowhere near as drowsy as this morning…” 

Ikuto didn’t look as if he was going to interrogate her symptoms, much to Amu’s relief. She thought he would have left her in peace already, but he looked fleetingly over his shoulder and entered after her, closing the door behind him. She looked at him quizzically. 

“Even so,” he began, rummaging around in one of his pockets; “you need to keep your strength up.” And he produced onto the table a little package, unwrapping it to reveal a few squares of hard tack and a pitifully small lemon. He met her gaze and smirked devilishly. “Sneaked up what I could from the galley.” 

Amu rolled her eyes, half-amused. “I don’t doubt that you’re good at sneaking about.”

Her response was another cheeky expression and she looked away, feeling her cheeks flare up again. 

“Do I really need this?” she picked up the lemon which Ikuto had already set about halving and laying in segments on the table. “I mean, you force-fed me plenty this morning, so…” 

Across the table from her, Ikuto pushed a quarter of fruit towards her and tried his best not to smirk. “Come _on, Amu,”_ he said coaxingly, in the way one might persuade a small child to take their medicine; “you don’t wanna be catching anything again, do you?” 

Amu scowled, mumbling unintelligibly to herself. She picked up the fruit like a petulant child, glancing sideways as Ikuto watched over her like an overbearing parent, arms crossed as he waited for her to comply. The seconds ticked by. Eventually, Amu sighed. 

“Alright, _fine_ , fine, I’ll eat it,” she caved, sitting down heavily at the table and wincing as the little chair squeaked dangerously beneath her. “I’ll eat the damn lemon, Ikuto. An hour it was, yes?” 

“An hour.” he repeated, apparently satisfied and headed back towards the door. “Don’t go for more than a few days without those fruits.” he added. Amu nodded briefly, but she paused completely when the comment set a bell ringing within her mind.

"Weeks?" she repeated, her voice distant. "Weeks…" Ikuto watched her face, confused, as she frowned again and laid out a mental timeline of events in her brain. "Ikuto," she eventually began - hesitant, treading over her own words tentatively; "How many weeks have I been on this ship?" 

Ikuto paused, the weight of her question suddenly laying heavy on his chest. He had barely thought about it. "Almost five weeks." Ikuto answered honestly. 

“Oh…” 

A shadow fell across her face, her voice wavering. Ikuto waited at the door patiently. 

“Five weeks away…” Amu whispered, absently rolling the slice of lemon about between her fingertips. “What will everyone think?” 

There was a lengthy silence then as Ikuto watched her - watched the grief overcome her features; watched her shoulders sag and the spark in her eyes begin to fade. Her heart still longed for home. The Captain had dealt her wounds that would not be healed. And, instead of yelling at him to leave her be like Ikuto had thought she might, Amu barely paid attention to him. She didn’t even bother to hide the tears that glistened on her cheeks. She sat at the table, a mere shadow, downtrodden, hardly caring that one of her captors was still stood in the doorway. 

Ikuto didn’t know why the sight tore at his heart, but, for whatever reason, he felt like he couldn’t stand it any longer. Perhaps a little harsher than he’d intended, he let out a low chuckle. 

“Oh, you have no _idea,_ Princess,” he began, lips curling into an unexpectedly amused smirk. Her head shot up. “That ex- fiancé of yours… The Commander. He’s overtaken dozens of ships since he set out for you.” 

It wasn’t good news to a pirate, but to Amu–

_“He’s what?”_ the Princess jumped to her feet, hardly caring as the chair tipped over behind her. _“Tadase set out for me?”_

–well, it was news enough that Ikuto saw her golden eyes alight with hope. He watched, satisfied, as her face broke out into the brightest grin he had ever seen. 

_“They didn’t give up!”_

~.~.~

The days passed, each as the one before it, and the weeks drew on sluggishly as the frigate languidly chugged its way over the waves. To the far northern reaches of the sea that stretched between Seiyo and the eastern continent Tadase had journeyed, maintaining his watch on the waters, searching so desperately far and wide for that fated ship that somewhere carried the light of his life - that smudge of pink against grey, as bright as the sun, yet shielded from view. 

More and more vessels he sprung upon and tore apart and cast adrift, left to voyage on crewless and ghostly across the ocean. Many a ship’s colours had been torn and tattered and burnt, scorched in gunfire, before the Commander’s eyes and been left to hang lifelessly upon the masts, now dominated by the symbol of Seiyo. There began to spread a fear and confusion quite unlike anything anyone could ever remember. Buccaneers as far as the exotic eastern seas halfway across the globe began to speak in anxious tones and hushed whispers of the savage royal mariners of the west who preyed upon them like dogs on the hunt - creeping out of the sea spray like beasts from the mist; rising from the waves as sea monsters and tearing those unsuspecting crews apart, leaving their crafts to sail forevermore, navigated by the souls of those who fell upon their decks. Trapped and unforgiving their spirits were and their wails of torment rang in the wind as it blew through the sails; through the hatchways that still echoed with cannon fire and across gun decks still smoking. Their planks were still stained with blood; their flags soiled; they struck such fear within the hearts of fellow pirates that they fled at the first sight of any wreckage, even if their path of flight led them into further fatal perils and, in this way, many other unfortunate men had met their end. 

Yet Tadase was somewhat comforted. He had heard those rumours of haunted vessels - he head heard those whispers carried across the sea breeze to his own cabin and he was glad, for surely his message would have reached the pirates that held his fiancée hostage by now. He hoped that they too had been struck to the soul by fright. He hoped that they were cowering and quivering in their pathetic little holes, too scared to face the light of day and he chuckled sadistically.

And so he would wait and bide his time and, more patiently than ever, he still looked to the day when he would finally lay his hands on the culprits and serve out the King’s own justice. As it was, their brigs had been occupied almost constantly with their own captives. Only a few days ago several of their ever-growing fleet had rounded up the majority of their prisoners and turned back to Seiyo, their hulls full of pirates and Captains awaiting their judgement. Tadase thought that perhaps he had a chance to rid the seas of those scoundrels once and for all. He had never guessed that they would come across so many unlawful men scattered about the world and yet here it appeared that they had begun some sort of purge. None yet had been those he was looking for… Yet there would be many, _many_ more hiding in the dark and dirty, secluded little places in this world. 

It would only be a matter of time before he hit his target.

And, as it turned out, Tadase was quite right to be optimistic, for it was not long after the faithful party had set out from Seiyo that Captain Kazuomi Ichinomiya, settled comfortably on his own Shining Black, had received word that the King’s search had begun. But Kazuomi had always been a cunning man; a clever man; as cunning as a fox and as sharp as a saber and so he had doubted that he would _ever_ have been so slack as to find himself captured by those pitiful servants of the King’s… Yet time ticked on. The waves kept rolling. The breeze lessened in their sails and brought to him the name of that Commander who had seen fit to instigate this cleansing of the seven seas. Kazuomi would glance anxiously out his window and he would wonder… Just _how_ had Hotori managed to fell so many men in such a space of time?

But then he laughed. _Laughed._ He laughed and howled and cackled with such ruthless mirth that it was as though a chill from the north had suddenly blast throughout the cabin. The air turned to frost upon the grimy surfaces; the hairs on his neck stood on end; Daichi would screech and squawk and flap, flustered, as the Captain cursed the Commander and the sorry lives of all his men, vowing to any deity that would listen that they would never - _never_ until the end of days! - lay a finger upon his Shining Black and the prize she kept within her. Of that prize he kept great watch. He observed Amu with a twisted sense of glee and watched, satisfied, as she grew weaker and weaker with each passing day. Kazuomi sat back in his seat at his desk, thoroughly pleased. A lack of decent meals was finally taking its toll upon her.

Or, at least, it _did_ … Until very recently - and very _strangely._ He saw that change, his gaze as piercing as a hawk, and he slammed his fist upon the table.

And so the Captain brooded. Tadase continued to strip the seas bare. And Amu’s life was, as ever, continuing on as normal after that - after the horrors of her dreaded illness had at last begun to lift; to fade away like clouds parting after a storm to let the rays of the sun shine bright upon the earth - and she thought that, slowly, she might have started to revert back into her usual self. As the usual, young woman she had first been when she had set foot aboard the Shining Black.

But, for Ikuto, the clouds still rolled on overhead. The rain poured. The sun would not touch the ground beneath his feet. For him, things had begun to take an unexpected turn.

~.~.~


	15. Fifteen

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

Ikuto was sure he was being watched. And it was not like he was unused to being watched, living his life under the ever-present eye of Kazuomi Ichinomiya as he did. He was a prisoner. He was chained, kept like an hound leashed to its vicious master, the chokehold pressing down upon his throat until he could barely fight; barely breathe. He had accepted long ago that he would never escape the stare of the man that his family had been forever tied to. It was his fate. It was where whatever higher power there might have been had decided to place him and so Ikuto had grown used to his stepfather’s obsessive observation of his daily activities. 

But this was different - far different to anything Ikuto was used to. This was the kind of eternal guard so powerful that no moment was private - no thought was silent. This was footsteps following him across the deck; hushed whispers carried in the whistle of the wind across the deck; this was eyes, unseen, piercing through the dark of the hold into the latest hours of the day already dead. There was always someone over his shoulder; always beside him just when he was about to ask for help; and - _there!_ \- that crew member crouched in the crow’s nest above whenever he was out on deck, eyes glinting in the sunlight, fixed away from his proper task. 

This was the kind of watch that Ikuto had not experienced since his very first days on the ship, back when he was still young and clueless, back when he still looked to jump overboard at every given opportunity no matter what new fate lay for him beneath the waves. The déjà vu was overwhelming. It was like a weight - a constant, niggling reminder in the back of his mind, sending shivers through his backbone, yet every time he whirled around he could never pinpoint just _who_ was responsible. He had no doubt, of course, that those muscled, burly acquaintances of the Captain were those to blame, but he had yet to catch them in the act - _clearly_ at least. They were far too skilled and Ikuto hated them for it. 

Ikuto was never one to succumb to nerves so readily. Not anymore, that was, but it made him think that something was coming. Something was stirring somewhere deep away in the depths of the ship and he would be blind to it when it came for him. It was pressing - _maddening._ He had no idea what had kick-started this sudden sentry-duty on his every move and, although there was no question that his good-for-nothing stepfather had issued the order, he hadn’t a single clue what they were looking for.

_‘Now, what could I have done this time?’_ Ikuto would think sarcastically as he tried to go about his business each day, failing to shake the tension from his shoulders. _‘Why doesn’t that psychopath just tell me already and be done with it?’_

No, he thought. It was just like Kazuomi to drag it out - to draw out the whole painful process until he was pushed to the very breaking point, so that he would crumble and collapse and break into a thousand pieces when the time finally came. What he had done (or whatever Kazuomi _thought_ he was doing) was beyond him. But, then again, Ikuto wondered often whether that man even needed a reason to try and strengthen his hold on him. 

Oh, how he loathed it. How he waited and dreamed and _prayed_ for the day when he would finally be able to strike his dear _‘father’_ where it hurt the most. But it was a pipe dream. Ikuto had to remind himself over and over that he should never dare reach out for Kazuomi’s throat. It was a trouble he could never afford to bring upon his family… But the hope of one day getting the chance to pounce upon his stepfather? _That_ was enough to soothe his anger. That was enough to entertain him on dark nights when the tossing and turning of the frigate kept him awake and restless. 

Ikuto smirked deviously. In the glare of the low, morning sun, he plodded heavily down the companionway, his mind occupied with sweet, _sweet_ fantasies all of which involved the Captain’s long-awaited, gruesome end. He eventually wiped it from his face, his mouth stretching into a yawn, as he dove deeper into the hold and towards the galley. It had been another sleepless night. Ikuto doubted that he would ever be able to get a good night’s rest whilst he still felt that presence that tracked his every movement like a phantom in the shadows. He remembered vaguely the words of rumours that flitted between the crew. They said that something very much unearthly - something dark and unholy and vengeful - wandered down here in the depths of the ship. But Ikuto knew the truth. He knew that there was no ghost - no other-worldly spectre - just the Captain’s lackeys crouched in their hammocks, out of sight, their guard never down for more than a minute. 

The old man was crazy, Ikuto thought. Perhaps Kazuomi was going senile in his old age. Still, he grumbled at the thought of his Captain as he found the lowest deck; down in the dim light at the very bottom of the beast that bobbed lazily along the waves. There had not been a cook in the ship’s galley for years. Rather, there was something of a ration system enforced by Kazuomi’s brutes, but that morning it appeared that they hadn’t made their way down here yet. Tens and tens of containers and barrels and unopened jars littered the space, but Ikuto had been here long enough to remember exactly which were the best to rummage through and not five minutes later he was back up to the upper deck, swinging a small sack of food in his hand, the smallest lemon he could find concealed inside one of his billowing sleeves. The Princess’ breakfast selection was meagre, as always. Amu would waste away within the next month or so if the Captain refused to lift his restrictions on her diet. Ikuto couldn’t help but feel disgusted with himself. If Kazuomi had wanted to starve Her Highness, he should have done his own dirty work himself. And, now that he was being watched so carefully, he could no longer dare to sneak much more than that single lemon out of the galley for her. And even _that_ would probably get him hanged. 

Ikuto bit his lip to stop himself from growling aloud. He paused at the doorway that led to the corridor inside and briefly looked over his shoulder. A pirate was halfway through hauling himself out of the hatchway and onto the deck. Ikuto frowned.

Why Kazuomi was so intent on spying on him, he didn’t know. But he would be sure to find out.

~.~.~

Ikuto’s mood had changed completely by the time he had been welcomed into Amu’s cabin. In fact, he had almost forgotten about the suspicious vigilance of Kazuomi’s little circle.

Quite simply, Ikuto was in awe.

Perhaps it was hope that had so dramatically changed the Princess’ attitude. Or, at least, it was the only explanation that Ikuto could give credit to. It must have been nice, he thought, to have some real chance of release. It was a mercy that was not granted to him, but Amu had been blessed. She had become like a ray of sunshine on a clear spring day, breaking the chill of winter, blinding him as he opened the door to her cabin. It never failed to catch him off-guard, that light, airy way she had started to greet him or the way she flitted about her cabin to prepare for her day of back-breaking labour… He thought she had regained some of that energy the Captain had tried to sap from her. She seized the day, determined to never let her spirit falter and all Ikuto could do was watch from a distance, astounded. It was like watching the world through a mist; like looking on through a foggy window or trapped on the opposite side of a mirror. Her world was becoming brighter and more optimistic with each passing day as that ray of hope lifted her soul. From the opposite side of the cabin, Ikuto could have drawn a clear line across the floorboards between them. She was trapped on what he considered to be a floating _hell_ , still recovering from scurvy, and yet still she had been up and ready by the time he’d even placed one hand upon her cabin door. 

Ikuto had not seen such light in so many long years. 

“Morning, Ikuto.” she’d said with a glorious smile as he’d delivered her breakfast. 

“Morning.” He had said back - much like he did every morning because he honestly didn’t know what on earth to say. He watched as she swept with the rustle of skirts over to the table. Amu reached for the lemon first, biting into its sharp flash without so much as hesitating, and Ikuto found himself stumped. He waited, watching her face intently… And soon enough there it was. The expression on her face after she took the first bite never failed to amuse him.

She must have caught the look on his face because she frowned then, setting the thing back down on the table and taking a big bite of biscuit to dull the flavour. “Ruffian” she muttered, though with less bite than she might have done some weeks ago. 

“Amu,” Ikuto said smoothly; “It’s all in your interest, _Your Highness.”_

Amu fixed a hand on her hip challengingly, looking so high and mighty for someone so short that it was almost amusing. “Well why don’t _you_ try it, then, if you’re so smug?” she huffed, breaking up the last of her biscuit and shoving it angrily into her mouth. 

Ikuto raised an eyebrow. _‘Challenge accepted,’_ he thought, swiping the half-eaten segment of fruit from the table. He finished almost the entire thing in a single bite without even blinking, chewing on the tangy flesh and allowing himself to grow cocky as she slunk backwards, folding her arms and grumbling. 

“Show-off,” she muttered. “At least you said they’d work.” 

Ikuto smirked cheekily at the tinge of pink on her cheeks. “And was I wrong?” he said. She didn’t answer. “In all seriousness,” he added; “You’re pretty lucky they did. Really, I’d rather not come in tomorrow and find you bleeding out again.” 

The pink of her cheeks promptly flushed to red. Amu lowered her eyes, head down, brushing imaginary crumbs off her front as if to hide from his gaze. But Ikuto had already seen it. 

_‘What on earth’s she thinking about?’_

“Come on,” he resigned, choosing not to pursue the thought, but he watched her, intrigued, as she pretended to be busy sorting out the fall of her skirts. “There’s work to do, Your Highness.”

“Of course!” 

And the carefree way she glided over the room to him would continue to strike him with awe yet again.

Yes, Ikuto thought, hope _had_ to be the reason for this transformation. Commander Hotori’s pursuit of her captors was like a ray of piercing light in the darkness. After all, how could it _not_ have lightened her mood? It was all down to the promise of rescue and a way back home. Ikuto didn’t blame her. From what he understood - or from what he could guess, at least - hope touched the heart. Hope pierced the soul and made it light as a feather; rising and shining and shedding light on even the gloomiest, most dreaded days. It was a vital key to survival. It was just a shame it had been all but stamped out on the deck of the Shining Black. 

“So bright for this time of the morning,” Ikuto mused, almost to himself, as he paused to lock the cabin door behind them. 

“Well,” Amu thought for a moment. “I feel a lot better, if that’s what you mean.” (It wasn’t, but he let her continue on.) “And you’ve been giving me so much help…” She looked away almost bashfully, but grateful. She was looking self-conscious now, stood in the hallway, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. She had been forced into another of the hand-me-down dresses dragged up from whatever storage of women’s clothing the Captain still had. This one might had been Utau’s once, Ikuto realised. The hem of the skirt was torn around the knee and Amu had kept her floor-length nightgown on underneath. It was probably a smart decision - he didn’t want to see her the subject of unwanted attention amongst Kazuomi’s men - but it made him uncomfortable. He glanced at the fraying fabric, ripped ruthlessly. Whether out of madness or to prove a point, Utau had inexplicably gone through a habit of tearing apart all the skirts Kazuomi had handed her. 

But, powder blue and far from the sort of royal finery Amu was used to, Ikuto somehow still thought that it was better than gold. 

_‘Why,’_ he wondered as he remembered that first, flashy dress he had seen her in; _‘would you dress her up in something so ostentatious when there’s gold enough in those eyes?’_

The thought had sprung unbidden and unexpected from the back of his mind before he could stop it and a chill ran down Ikuto’s spine. He froze. Where had 

that

come from?

Amu hadn’t noticed. She abandoned her sleeve and shook her head. “But, anyway,” she said, drawing him back to earth; “I suppose you’re right. And I have you to thank for that…” And she smiled up at him, her face illuminated by the glow of the rising sun pouring in through the windows at the end of the corridor. 

_“Thank you,_ Ikuto.”

He swallowed. “No problem.” 

And he thought for the first time that, perhaps, _this_ was what hope looked like. 

~.~.~

Ikuto had thought that perhaps he might’ve had the rest of the day to dwell on that light that had oh-so-briefly managed to pierce his soul. He had thought that maybe - just _maybe_ \- he might have been distracted enough to ignore the watch that followed him that day; to finally shrug off the stares that fell heavy on his back as he tried to go about his daily business. 

He wandered about the deck of the ship in a stupor. He had been shaken, that is, if he hadn’t already been before. He’d thought that Amu couldn’t surprise him any more. For some reason he found it troubling. What good was hope when he had no use for it? And yet…

Ikuto sighed, at last finding a quiet spot beneath the companionway on the gundeck. He stood in the dim light, the heavy footfalls of a hundred boots pounding just one floor above him, and took a deep breath. 

_‘It’s no use,’_ he told himself again and again; _‘there’s no end… There’s never an end…’_

If there was one thing that Kazuomi had made sure of... It was that there really was no end. And it wasn’t long before Ikuto was reminded of that. 

The steps shuddered dangerously before Ikuto’s face. He straightened up. He recognised those distinct strides - that marching pace that had the ship itself trembling under their weight. Two of the very men who Ikuto was sure had been trailing him in the shadows these past few days appeared before him, their faces grave and rocky as a mountainside. Ikuto stared back at the creatures as they faced him, a muscle in his jaw flexing as he tried to keep his expression as blank as their soulless eyes. Eventually, one grumbled; 

_“Captain’s cabin.”_

It was all that was ever said between them. It was all that needed to be said. Dread pooled in Ikuto’s stomach. Whatever it was that he’d done to deserve this eternal guard… Well, he had a feeling he was about to find out. He said not a word - barely even blinked at the man - as he strode past and hesitantly picked his way up and back across the deck until he found himself in the corridor, stood face to face with the Captain’s cabin. 

Absently, Ikuto glanced back at the light of the windows behind him. In his mind, he tried to picture gold and pink, but the ominous gloom of the Captain’s cabin was almost overpowering. The chains and rusty metal of the lock on the door clinked dully as he knocked. 

Surprisingly, the Captain opened the cabin himself. Usually he would be beckoned by a grumbling from the other side - a harsh bark or a cold _‘In.’_ But never did Kazuomi answer the door himself. A shadow seemed to spill from the darkness of the cabin, sweeping across the floorboards, clinging to Ikuto’s boots. The crack in the door widened and the Captain himself stood, leaning heavily on one foot. He wondered if Kazuomi was about to hit the floor right there and then, but he didn’t. Instead his gaze was murderous, his focus steady. He spoke gruffly and a chill clawed its way across Ikuto’s skin; 

_“Ikuto.”_

The man’s heart almost failed him. If he hadn’t suspected before, he was sure now. He was about to find out what he had done to stoke the Captain’s ire. 

_“Ikuto!”_ the Captain roughly gestured for Ikuto to enter. “Get in here - _now!”_ He closed the door behind them and Ikuto felt as though he’d been cut off from the world entirely. He entered apprehensively, but stoically, like a condemned man about to take his last few steps up to the executioner’s noose. He smelled tobacco. There was a broken bottle of something strong on the floor beside the Captain’s desk, staining the already stained rug. He wondered how old it was and then remembered that he had heard it again… _She_ had cried again last night. He remembered the sound of her broken whimpers reaching him in the dead of night and he felt a lump harden in his throat. Kazuomi was walking past him now. He was unpredictable. He hadn’t left her alone the night before… So why would he treat his _‘dearest_ son’ any differently? 

Ikuto stood in the middle of the room. He was stand-offish now as her cries echoed in his mind. He waited. His stepfather dug out a bottle from one of the drawers of his desk and uncorked it. He downed half of it without so much as a splutter. Finally, Ikuto could take no more.

“You asked to see me, Sir?” he said, far more calmly than he’d thought he would. In front of him, Kazuomi hummed in agreement. 

_“Ah,”_ he said; “Yes…” He heavily thudded his way over until he was stood only feet away. “You see, Ikuto… You see, there’s something that I’ve realised lately…” 

“Yes, Captain?” 

_THUD!_

Ikuto could barely keep himself from flinching as the bottle landed heavily on the ground. It didn’t break, but it bounced off the Captain’s boot and rolled, spilling its contents wastefully onto the ground, resting beside the leg of a rickety chair to the side. He glanced at it for a single second and when his eyes came to rest once more upon the Captain it was as if the gates to hell’s fury had been opened. 

_“Oh,”_ Kazuomi snarled, edging closer, a finger pointed towards him. _“Oh,_ no, no, _no, Ikuto!_ Don’t you remember? Don’t you remember after all these years?” He leaned in. Ikuto could have become drunk off of the fumes on his breath. “When we are here- When we are together in his cabin…” Ikuto knew what was coming. He braced himself against it. “When we are alone you address me as your _father.”_

Ikuto closed his eyes briefly and willed himself to remain passive. “Yes.” he said although every fibre of his being was alight with protest. “Yes, _father.”_

And Kazuomi sneered wickedly. “But, of course,” he went on; “there’s a lot you should have learned since your welcome here…” He paused as if for dramatic effect. When he spoke again his words were starting to slur, yet they reached Ikuto’s ears like thunderclaps in a tropical storm. He growled, dangerously slowly; “You’ve been denying my orders, Ikuto.” 

Ignoring the growing feeling that he had found himself caught in the eye of a hurricane, Ikuto just raised an eyebrow questioningly. 

And then the clouds burst open and the lightning flashed in the Captain’s eyes - wild and volatile as he flung himself forward. His fist barely missed Ikuto’s jaw and he staggered, underestimating the nimble feet of his stepson. 

_“Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”_ he roared, whirling, his long, black coat flying behind him. Ikuto had removed himself a good distance away. The two faced each other, Kazuomi starting to circle him as tigers prowl about the ring before a fight. 

“I know they’ve been watching me.” Ikuto said slowly, his eyes never leaving the Captain’s, braced and alert. “Why?” 

“And I know what you’ve been doing!” Kazuomi snapped. _“You IMBECILE!”_ He reached down and grabbed the abandoned, half-empty bottle off the floor. Ikuto side-stepped on instinct just as it flew past his head and collided with the wall behind him, bursting into a million, sandy pieces, glittering as they fell to the grubby floor. Ikuto’s heart was racing, frantic. He remembered the true extent of Kazuomi’s wrath. He remembered the unpredictability - the heat, the force, the temperament… And it was every bit as terrifying as it used to be. 

Kazuomi staggered on the spot, growling, dissatisfied with the poor shot of his aim. “I tell you to deprive her!” he breathed. “I tell you to halve her rations - I tell you to cut her _off! I know you’ve been sneaking her extra meals you filthy little wretch!”_ And he laughed cruelly. “You think you’re so smart? You think you can hide from _ME?_ My boys can list every extra meal she’s had for _days!_ And, frankly, _son-”_ (Ikuto growled audibly.) _“-I think you need to be taught a lesson!”_

_“And why is that?”_

As soon as Ikuto opened his mouth he wished he could close it. He wished he could force his lips shut and snatch the words from his throat as soon as they bubbled up to the surface, but the heat of his irritation was growing stronger and stronger by the second. He should have kept his mouth shut. He should’ve waited and tried to twist the situation. He should have done _absolutely_ anything else because now he realised things could only get worse. But there was no stopping Kazuomi now. 

And so, he figured, there’d be nothing to stop _him_ either. Ikuto straightened, stepping back and continuing to humour the Captain as they weaved their way about the cabin, squaring each other down. “Why should she starve?” Ikuto said. “You haven’t been through all of this to just let the Princess die of hunger - why should we _starve_ her to death?”

“‘Why’?” The word was stunned and quiet and the Captain stared, utterly disgusted, at the man who had dared to question him. _“‘WHY’?”_ He was advancing again - surging forwards like the oncoming storm until Ikuto’s back hit the wall - defenceless as the shadow overcame him. His stepfather’s hands found his collar, grabbing and scratching at his neck. His feet left the floor. The Captain’s grip was like iron; his alcohol-stained breath hot and vile against his face. His thumbs were digging into his throat painfully. He was truly trapped. 

_“Because,_ you _disgusting,_ little feline,” Kazuomi spat. “So long as she refuses to give me any of the information that _I_ need, she does not get any of the things _she needs! Do I make myself clear? And YOU-”_ \- he released his grip so suddenly that Ikuto wasn’t prepared - _“WOULD DO WELL TO TAKE ORDERS AND STOP INTERFERING!”_

Ikuto slumped back against the wall. He hadn’t even realised that his body was shaking. His breath was unsteady and shallow. His chest hurt with the force of his heartbeat. “Forgive me, Captain,” he breathed. He could barely find the words to carry on, “but I- I-” - _‘Am I stuttering?’_ , he thought - “I assumed that you would want to keep a hostage - a _royal_ hostage - in good health…” 

There was no taming the Captain’s anger now. If his rage had been unbound before, now it was positively out of control. _“I don’t give a DAMN whether or not she’s royalty!”_ he stepped back and cast his eyes over the pitiful form of his stepson. _“She gets punished! She gets punished just as you do!”_ Ikuto was silent. The Captain lowered his voice, still slurring, but mocking and cruel. He sneered. “And that’s why you’re still useless, Ikuto. Just a _stupid, senseless_ little boy who I should have just disposed of before you could cause me any trouble.” In more ways than one, the calmness of his tone was far worse than the thunderous bellowing of before. He retreated, circling his desk, inspecting his drawer for more liquor. “You were always useless, Ikuto…” he muttered bitterly; “Just like your father.” 

It used to be a stab at the boy’s heart. It used to be the sole, petty jab that tore at his heart and riled his spirit, but, so many years later, all Ikuto could feel was an empty, dull void in his chest. He wasn’t even sure which he preferred anymore. To feel pain was to feel alive, but how could he bring himself to care when this monster before him had hollowed out his soul - stripping away at his senses piece by piece with every wound; every scar; every petty insult until he was no more than a mere empty shell of a man - living in the background; set apart from all those lively characters just outside on the deck. He was a shadow. He was cold. He was empty to the core and every time he tried to fill that hole up again the Captain would only destroy it even quicker. 

But, although the pain had dampened, that resentment that he felt towards his stepfather was still as strong as the day they had first met. It had become a part of him. It had become just another chain around his ankle. It had become a part of his every waking moment and it was bolder than he ever dared to be. 

“Bad-mouthing the old man again…” Ikuto muttered, poison dripping from his tongue. “Ah,” he chuckled drily. “Of course… And he still had everything you didn’t…” 

There was a silence. And then Kazuomi raised his eyebrow. It was somehow a more threatening action than anything that had led up to it. 

“I’m sorry, Ikuto?” 

Ikuto wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He was carefully sliding his way over to the door, not daring to look back. He heard a scoff. 

_“Yes,_ Ikuto,” Kazuomi placed down the bottles he’d found on the desk. “Just leave. Go on - leave like the _coward_ you are.” There was a clinking as his alcohol drawer was slid shut. “A coward… _Just like him._ You think that spineless little man was noble? You think he was a _good_ man?” Kazuomi tipped back his hat and barked humorlessly with laughter. “Running away from his family! _Running!_ It was _cowardly! So go ahead! Run away!_ God, and to think, here I am stuck with _you! Another coward!”_

Something inside Ikuto snapped. He felt his resistance dissolve like the break of a wave on the shore. Many nights he had spent tossing and turning and fantasising about how he would wound the man as much as he himself was wounded. Never before had he found the courage to let these dreams wander into his head in the presence of the Captain. They were little wishes - little twisted hopes - that he saved for the times when Kazuomi was nowhere to be seen , for it had always felt as though, somehow, the man could peel away the protective layers he had placed over his heart and delve deep into his very soul... 

But for some reason Ikuto finally thought he felt brave enough to step a foot over the line that Kazuomi had drawn in the sand to control his life. To trap him; to encage him; so that he could tame him - manipulate him, make him work his fingers to the bone like a good little soldier boy with a pistol always jabbing at his back as a constant reminder that Kazuomi would always, _always_ be there… Always watching. Always shrouding him in darkness. Always pulling the strings of his living marionette. 

But Ikuto’s emotions had been bottled for far too long, like a cannon ready to burst, and Ikuto thought… What if the marionette dared to try and break its threads? What if it snapped its strings and lashed out at its master - its owner who wished it to dance until its feet were sore and bloody? 

Ikuto turned back and beheld his Captain - this man who fed on misery; who was just _asking_ for him to march over there and beat the drunken bastard within an inch of his life; who _wanted_ to make his family’s life hell on earth and _enjoyed it…_

There was a broken bottle peeking out from beneath the Captain’s desk. It glinted up at Ikuto, daring him. He could just imagine it. He could just feel the cool, smooth surface between his fingers; he could feel it slipping from his hand, flying through the air towards its target… Or else tight in his grip, angled towards the Captain’s throat. 

Ikuto saw his chance and he snarled. 

_“At least he didn’t get imprisoned by a greedy, deceitful tyrant like you.”_

A ray of light pierced through the clouds outside and the bottle on the floor shone bright in his eyes as he lunged for it, swooping across the cabin, leaping over the desk and tumbling to the floor as the Captain dodged his grasp. Ikuto rolled onto his back and jabbed the broken bottle upwards, towards Kazomi’s face, but, though he was faster, his stepfather was stronger. The bottle left his hands, Kazuomi was on his feet... 

There was an almighty shattering sound as the glass bottle exploded beside Ikuto’s shoulder. He shielded his eyes and when he opened them his breathing stopped. The adrenaline that had fuelled his madness was suddenly drained from his blood. The newly-formed shadow fell across the floor and struck him dead. Cold to the bone, images came back to him from years long gone and it seemed to him that he had once again returned to his childhood. How often that darkness had crossed him. Oh, how that shadow had signalled the beginning of that downward spiral that was his life. How often he had felt the stinging of the Captain’s fury, his skin angry and purple for days… 

Ikuto breathed heavily, the steam rolling off his body as the inferno in his heart died away - quenched pathetically. It was possibly the biggest mistake he’d made in his life, but, right then and there, God knew that even that little utterance had been worth it. He lay there and revelled in the notion that Kazuomi had finally got to taste even the tiniest drop of venom that he had waited his entire life to throw at him. 

But now he would have to suffer his punishment. There was no escape - no hiding from the inevitable - and so he watched and waited and braced himself as the Captain took a gigantic swig of brandy (something that he had known since childhood would never be a positive start) and walked leisurely, as if he were taking a peaceful stroll in the sunshine, towards his stepson. 

And as the shadow fell across his face and as Ikuto finally saw the true extent of the ire in his eyes, he suddenly found himself reverting back to that very small, helpless child that he once had been - powerless and weak at the hands of the notorious Kazuomi Ichinomiya. 

And just like back then, Ikuto shut his eyes and waited for the worst. 

~.~.~


	16. Sixteen

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

It was a glorious breath of fresh air to be relieved of work, even if only temporarily, Amu thought. Especially when her wounds were still healing and the sun beat down hot and heavy on her back, it was just pure bliss to have nothing more to do than to lean back against the bulwark in the shade of the sails and take in the breeze, the shade, the sight of the glittering sea… Maybe even interact with those whom Amu had started to accept were now her crewmates. (Or, at least, those who didn’t oppose her company.)

In this way Amu thanked to God that she had Kukai. He was a ball of unceasing energy. Optimistic, and high-spirited unlike anyone Amu had ever known, it was almost impossible not to feel cheerful whenever he was around. And, what was even better, he had absolutely no qualms about lounging beside the Captain’s hostage in full view of his cohorts. He had popped up from the hatchway to the lower decks not an hour ago, looking rather ashamed of himself for not helping her out that day (which she thought was truly sweet, for she knew that he had no obligation to) and insisted that, as the crew were permitted to relax for a while, he would sit with her and keep her company. Normally Amu would have been ushered inside for rest like this… But, well, Ikuto was the only one who held the keys to her cabin and he was nowhere to be seen. Kukai’s offer had been more than welcome. Amu smiled as he scooted over and plonked himself down on the deck beside her. 

“Ya see that?” the rusty-haired pirate sighed, somewhat agitated, and pointed up at a spot in the sky where, far above, Daichi had perched himself amongst the shrouds. Another pirate was attempting to reach him via the ratlines, but the bird just squawked obnoxiously at him in protest and the pirate was forced to retreat, growling, as he lost his balance. Amu laughed aloud. She’d never known an animal to have so much personality. 

_“See?”_ Kukai repeated, waving an arm upwards. _“This_ is the kinda stuff that’ll get me into trouble with the Captain!” He shook his head, exasperated, and watched cautiously. “Him up there’ll have my head when he gets back down.” 

“Honestly, Kukai,” Amu managed, trying desperately to stifle her giggles; “what do you expect from a wild creature?” 

But, before Kukai could respond, he was cut off by a bout of furious yelling from across the deck. Amu’s efforts to restrain herself from laughter was all in vain and they watched Daichi drop handfuls of his own waste from above, narrowly missing a pirate on the lower decks. The pirate fumed and Kukai very conspicuously tried to conceal himself behind a nearby barrel before his superior noticed. 

_“God damn it, Daichi!”_

_“Kukai!”_ the Princess wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. “I’m still surprised you manage keep Daichi on this ship! How do you get him to stay? Couldn’t he just flap away back to wherever he came from if he wanted to?” 

“Hey,” Kukai eventually shuffled out from behind the safety of his barrel, apparently sensing that the coast was clear; “Daichi wouldn’t just up and leave!” he defended, as if the very notion was appalling to him. He folded his arms and leant back up against the bulwark beside her, shifting to get the most of the retreating shade. “‘Sides, he’s got his master here, don’t he?” He announced, pointing a proud thumb at himself and flashing her that big, toothy grin of his. “Well, that and I guess he’s got all his food here…” 

Amu thought that last explanation sounded the most likely, but she kept her opinions to herself, grinning knowingly. “I suppose,” she resigned. “It’s like he’s human.” 

The young buccaneer shrugged casually. “Ah, but he’s a buddy to me, I guess.” And then he sniggered, cocking his head in the direction of one large group of crewmates huddled around a deck of cards on the forecastle and leaning over conspiratorially. “Though, he might as well be. Sometimes I doubt whether any of _these_ lot are even human.” 

Amu simply responded with a bewildered sort of look. He sidled closer, lowering his voice and casting his eyes over the deck of the ship. 

“Like, uh, lemme give ya an example, uh… _Oh!_ That guy there - see him? The one with the tats all up his arm? Yeah, I’ve seen him _eat_ the bottle as well as the grog. And that guy? Over there? Seen him haul five _times_ his weight in one go! And _him-”_ \- one of the familiar, intimidating muscle-men was next - “-yeah, I don’t think I even gotta tell ya about that one.” 

And Amu allowed herself to laugh and giggle along to her heart’s content as he went about his casual slander of the crew. She really had to thank Kukai for being the honest, good man that he was or else she wasn’t sure she’d ever have felt so comfortable sat here in plain daylight on the deck of the Shining Black, surrounded by thieves and outlaws and (supposedly) cutthroats alike. Truthfully, Amu couldn’t have put her gratitude into words at that moment even if she’d tried. One day though, she would try her damned best.

But, for now, she just wanted to enjoy their afternoon in the sun together, free from fear and isolation, and so she leant in closer, picking out random members of the crew for him to analyse and degrade - sometimes with awfully detailed and vulgar metaphors, but, though she knew it was low and shamefully uncultured, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was a world away from home in a big wooden bowl bobbing about in unclaimed waters, so to hell with it! 

Amu’s next target was the helmsman, just visible on the very upper decks. 

“And him?” 

When she pointed to him, hoping that nobody else would notice that they were quiet clearly scrutinising everyone they could spot, Kukai beamed. His entire demeanour lit up. He leant forwards, clapping a hand against his knee. 

“Oooh, _him!”_ he exclaimed as if he could not believe he had missed out such a prime target. “Well, ya see, he-”

But Kukai’s words broke off mid-sentence. Directly below the helmsman’s station, the double-doors to the cabin area swung slowly open, pushed aside with great difficulty. Ikuto stepped out, pale and grey even from a distance. His head hung low. Amu drew in a short breath in surprise. He was swaying awkwardly on one leg, staggering for the briefest of moments before pushing himself off the doorframe and heading out into the daylight. Amu watched the doors ease shut behind him. The inside of the corridor was consumed by shadow. 

The last she’d heard of Ikuto, he had been summoned into the Captain’s cabin… And as the pieces slotted together in her mind, she drew a blank, utterly torn between outrage and fear. 

Well, honestly, Amu wasn’t sure she should be surprised. Of course such a man would have been an abusive one - a cruel, callous man without a hint of decency nor remorse. 

But, watching Ikuto struggle through the crowds, Amu had to hold herself back. Ikuto would not want her pity. He would not want her to cause him more trouble. All she could do was sit idle and let herself go red with fury at the very thought of a man laying even a finger upon his own son. She glanced back as Ikuto stumbled down the hatchway and winced on his behalf, for, even though he clearly felt discomfort, it for not one moment showed on his face. She still noticed, though. There was a redness upon his jawline and she bet herself that next time she saw him he would have a lovely, full-blown bruise. 

'Despicable _Captain…'_

Her blood was boiling, her nails digging into her palms. She snarled through gritted teeth; 

“Kukai… Do you see..?” 

"Huh? Uh, oh…" Amu turned to him, puzzled at his reaction, and frowned as he replied with a scratch of the head; "I'm… I'm not sure what you're on about." She was about to turn on him for so blatantly failing to let it go unnoticed when he abruptly stood and clapped his hands together, though the action lacked the spirit and carefree attitude that it normally did. "Anyway, c'mon. You wanna watch me go get that damned bird down?" 

~.~.~

The scuffling resounded throughout the immense, empty void of the Shining Black’s hull as Ikuto slowly lowered himself down towards the sleeping quarters. The steps creaked beneath his feet, groaning painfully, cutting through the thick quiet like a cold knife. 

Blood was pounding in his ears, his head spinning, and it would only get worse and worse as he pushed and hauled and dragged himself across yet more decks - down more steep steps, deeper into the darkness until he could rest. He paused, leaning against a supporting post for a moment. It was nearly useless. His heart was beating too fast. His blood surged too strong. His head was faint with vertigo and his stomach was twisting. He breathed a shaky breath and tried to settle his senses before lugging himself down one last flight of steps. 

Now alone and with not a single prying eye to disturb him, Ikuto dropped the placid expression and let himself wince audibly as he heavily thudded down onto the lower deck. He hissed. His leg - his left leg that was crying and howling in protest - was threatening to give out beneath him as he pushed himself one last time over to the hammock in the corner where he would rest and curl up and lick his wounds until his pride was healed enough for him to venture back outside. Ikuto almost threw himself down into the comfort of his hammock and almost instantly regretted it. A groan tore unbidden from his lips, his ribs flaring beneath his skin. He grit his teeth and laughed bitterly at the unwelcome sense of déjà vu. Here he was again - here he was once more pulling himself up from the floor of the Captain’s cabin just like he used to all those years ago and dragging his sorry backside down here in the dark to wish away the pain… _Just_ like he used to. 

_‘Ah, the memories,’_ Ikuto thought sarcastically, closing his eyes and settling to the gentle rocking of the hammock, gradually swinging as the immense frigate swayed from side to side… Though more to the left, he noticed. The ship had been leaning to the portside for most of the morning. Funny the things one noticed when left alone - in the dark and undistracted. 

But the darkness had grown to be comforting down here. Ikuto had never thought that he would’ve been so at peace with the dark, but this was different. This wasn’t like the shadow of the Captain’s aura; this wasn’t the grim atmosphere that his men had thrown over the rest of the crew; this dark wasn’t oppressive or malevolent or terrible. This darkness down here was peaceful. It was undisturbed. The only light that reached his eyes trickled down through the hatchways. It seeped through - horizontal slants of daylight that stretched like tendrils from the deck above, falling and pooling about the bottom of the companionway like a waterfall. It was like a cave down here - so far below the surface, cavernous and echoing, half-below the waterline, and yet still persistent rays of sunlight still insisted on shining through and touching even the deepest, darkest places one could find. They were undetermined, piercing through the shadow… And Ikuto, for a moment, felt at peace. Their quarters were always empty during the day. They became quiet and calm, a welcome place of sanctuary for Ikuto after being forced to revisit his past at the hands of his… At the hands of _that_ man. 

He wondered absently why this time he had been so easily tipped over the edge after years upon years of sucking up the pain and taking all he had to throw at him. Maybe… Maybe, now that he thought about it, he just hadn’t wanted anyone to ruin that little period of happiness he had found himself beginning to sink into. No, maybe not _‘happiness’._ That was a stupidly inappropriate name for it… But perhaps he had felt more positive inside - free to laugh; free to be mischievous; to be a little bit daring again. It was as though all that had been drained from him was starting to slowly reemerge. Perhaps somehow he had started to become more content with the little things in this life that he had previously overlooked. It seemed as though the breeze blew stronger on his cheeks in the crow’s nest; the tang of lemon juice grew sweeter on his tongue; the sun shone brighter the earlier he rose - rising up and out of the blue of the ocean warmer and lighter, stark against the pale sky… 

Glowing stronger and more golden on pink hair and pale skin. 

_‘Damn,’_ Ikuto sighed harshly into the silence. It had been then - as Amu had arrived and acted like a burst of light and life around him - that something must have changed. She must have rubbed off on him. Her presence was so refreshing. She was like the cleanest breath of fresh air he’d ever taken, so crisp and pure after spending his life choked to death on sea salt. Every suffocating day that had passed on the Shining Black had been so dull and grey and blurred in fog… And then _she_ had arrived. 

It was just a shame that Ikuto hadn’t realised he’d been less despondent until it had all come crumbling down around him. He could have groaned again. _‘How could she have possibly made a difference?’_ he asked himself, exasperated, and he lay there for some time thinking more and more about it, dwelling over and over again… But he either couldn’t see or didn’t want to accept the logic. After all, what was the use of her brightening up this sorry ship if Kazuomi was only doomed to kill her anyway? 

It was too much to dwell on in his state of mind. Ikuto let it go, leaning back, settling further into his hammock and welcoming the empty silence. The swaying of the frigate lulled his eyes shut, calming him just as his mother used to; the way she used to pick him up and rock him gently and for a moment he could almost hid himself that he was still just a child in his mother’s embrace, slowly edging back and forth… Back to a time when all that mattered in the world was what game he would play with his sister that day or what cove he would explore beside their home... 

Though even his childhood had not exactly been the greatest period of his life. 

He remembered it. He remembered it all. He remembered the heat of the flames; the cries of his sister; the melancholy melody of that wonderful violin and the sting of his stepfather’s hands-

_“SNAP OUT OF IT, IKUTO!”_

_**SMACK!** _

Ikuto gasped aloud, jerking out of his dreamlike state. He rubbed his temples; tried to shake his head free of unpleasant thoughts. He drew his hands back to find them covered in sweat, his body burning. The air in here was starting to cook, stifling him and Ikuto wanted to groan. 

_“Damn…”_ he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. He’d done so well to force down whatever reminders lingered in the back of his mind, but here they were starting to stir again. Here they raised their heads like evil spirits; like demons crawling out from the shadows and all the little places no one ever bothered to check before they went to bed; unwelcome and malicious with claws to tear open old scars and touches to bring on those icy cold sweats - the ones that take forever to shake away; that stay with you, clinging like parasites and embedding themselves beneath the skin to remind you every now and then that they’re _still here._ They’re never going away. They’d never leave - always waiting to drag you back down into the darkness when you least expect it - and all Ikuto could try to do was to shove them back somewhere in the back of his head. Somewhere dark and dusty and hard to reach in the hopes that _somehow_ the demons would forget him too. He wanted an _end_ \- to cut off all ties with the ghosts of the memories that haunted him. He just wanted to _forget_ that past. 

And, swaying and sweating, Ikuto tipped back his head and gave in. 

“And what an unhappy past it was…” 

It still all felt so _real._ The flames - they hit him first. The searing heat; the humid air; the smoke rising through the collapsing roof of the once prestigious home. Women cried and the little boy sprinted through the ash and glowing embers, sneaking away from the foreboding shadows of the monsters that crept about the ruins, stalking their prey like hungry wolves on the prowl and he was the deer that tiptoed through the burning home to evade the grip of their greedy claws and savage teeth… 

Then suddenly he was in the cold - the frost of the November dawn biting harshly at his glowing nose; huddling in the corner of the grotty, unsanitary alleyway, chilled and confused and with only the cats for company; a teary-eyed-boy lost and alone in such a horrible world. But then the figure loomed over him, frightening and malevolent, and he would soon some to realise that there was more horror to be had in this lifetime than on his knees in the city streets. He screamed, kicking and yelling, thrashing beyond desperation for his freedom as he was hoisted up over the man’s shoulder like a sack only to be dumped upon the hard, wooden floor before the feet of the Captain. He looked up, stricken with fear, asking with all the courage a ten-year-old could muster; 

_“W-Where’s- Where’s my father..?”_

And then the darkness and the moonlight glowing through the cabin window. A ruthless, merciless sound like the snap of wood. The almighty thud as he hit the floor in tears, gritting his teeth together as his new father bellowed for him to bear it; to stop crying; to man up and prove to him that he wasn’t as disgustingly hopeless as his father had been- 

_“GET UP, IKUTO!”_

_**“IKUTO!”** _

_“Ikuto?”_

The young pirate jumped, bewildered. A hand was on his shoulder. He blinked, dazed, and his blue eyes met lilac. Utau stood over him, brows furrowed, eyes wide with concern and a hand ready to shake him out of unwanted daydreams. He didn’t know how much she’d already seen of his latest set of flashbacks, but he would have to assume that she’d seen it all. _Again_ … But by now there was a level of understanding - a certain mutual, invisible connection between two siblings - and Ikuto knew that she wouldn’t press him. He sat up, placed the memories back in that distant, little section of his brain and looked back at his sister as if everything was completely normal. 

“Utau,” Ikuto began, his voice a little hoarse, and it was only now that it dawned on him that she had actually _left_ her cabin for the second time that week. “Unusual for you to venture so far.” he said curiously. “What’s wrong?” 

Amusingly, Utau barely stopped herself from puffing out her cheeks (a habit she had picked up when she was feeling embarrassed) and looked away sheepishly. He really thought that she was going to play along - that she was going to ignore his suffering like he wanted her to and tell him to mind his own business, throw some colourful expletives at him, anything… But then she awkwardly folded her arms in on herself and cracked out; 

“Ikuto… I… We heard…” 

Her voice wavered and Ikuto’s voice broke a little bit more. 

_“Utau.”_ he said warningly. 

“Ikuto,” in front of anyone else, Utau would have been ashamed to let her tears well up to the surface, but the two of them were alone in the dark and she still managed to keep them at bay as the leaned towards him; “show me your cheek…” When he didn’t, she reached out and tried to turn his chin towards her. _“Ikuto!”_

_“Utau!”_

She shrunk back, still glaring as he roughly brushed her away and turned his head to face the wall. The shadows fell across his bruising skin - a welcome veil of concealment. “Either get to work or lock yourself up again.” It was supposed to sound indifferent, but it sounded flat and uncaring and Ikuto wished he hadn’t had to say it. 

But Utau almost growled. Frustrated, she grasped at his collar (not noticing him stiffen with déjà vu) and tried to peer round at his face in the darkness. “Worry for my brother must come as an exception!” she snapped. “Damn you, Ikuto…” 

His hands found hers and he gently freed himself from her grip. “There’s no need to worry,”

“Ikuto,” she shook her head; “mother and I always worry about you. Especially whilst the Captain still watches over us.” 

There was a sense of emptiness and grim acceptance behind that statement that made him shiver, but, either way, he did not have an answer. She continued to look at him with those big, pleading, gorgeous eyes that reminded him so much of his mother’s… 

And then the silence was broken. Someone was calling down the hatchway. Ikuto’s slacking had not gone unnoticed and he sighed, reluctant to face the day and get back to work after such an ordeal, but if Kazuomi found out now that he’d been refusing work he probably wouldn’t even make it out of the Captain’s cabin next time. Luckily enough for him, he recognised the voice of the pirate above deck. He was as harmless as a fly - just another one of the poor souls who had ended up cast away here either by misfortune or accident (which was really all the same thing). 

“On my way up,” Ikuto called back through the darkness and watched as the shadow of the man fell away. 

“Ikuto…” 

Utau’s words died upon her lips as she watched the way he heaved himself up onto his feet. His walk was heavy and difficult. He would have problems with that leg for a good few days, but it was fortunate enough for him that he was still good at hiding the pain. He managed it all the way up to the surface, only grimacing once as he narrowly dodged someone rushing past. He stumbled back on his beaten leg. _“Idiot.”_ he hissed below his breath and made off to get to work. Utau had been trailing a few steps behind him, her head low. Now in the light of day, she made a beeline for her cabin. And then a hooting came from across the deck. 

_“Well~!”_ someone sneered; “Look’a that! Out _again,_ sweet-cheeks?” 

Ikuto turned and seethed at the scum who dared to leer at his little sister. He understood why she was so keen to keep inside. Utau was stood as still as a statue at the bottom of the companionway, her path blocked by four thugs, their gazes wandering and hungry - ravenous like dogs drooling over legs of meat in a butcher’s window. 

“Gettin’ used to our company, are ya?” 

_“My!_ Brave today to come outta ya little hidey-hole?” 

“Wouldn’t ya just _love_ to lock yerself away forever - _tiny,_ little _pathetic excuse of a woman!”_

_“Gotta take a lotta bravery to face the sunlight, right, pigtails?”_

“She never sees the light’a day!” one of them looked down at her with disdain. “You oughta be _careful_ out here, missy…” 

“O- _OI!”_ Ikuto glanced back over his shoulder to see Kukai drop an armful of rope and line and glared at the offending thugs, looking positively enraged. He made quite a sight - half their size and red in the face as he marched his way over. “You oughta mind your own business, lads! That’s no way to speak to a lady!” 

Utau looked at him, stunned. Ikuto, meanwhile, took every ounce of restraint in his body not to smile at such a display of defence towards his sister. He wandered calmly over, hands in his pockets, disguising his limp expertly, and hummed lightly. “Right you are,” he spoke up. All heads on the deck were turned. “Calm down, Kukai, this lot wouldn’t know a thing about civility.” 

The shortest thug was carrying a sheathed penknife. He pointedly twirled it between his fingers and raised an eyebrow. “Say what, Tsukiyomi?” 

“I _said…”_

The thug opened his mouth to speak, but it was too late. He gasped out, coughing and startled, as in a blur Ikuto had him pinned and secured in a chokehold against the bulwark. He spluttered, astonished and caught off-guard. _“H-How?”_

“I _said,”_ Ikuto went on steadily; “that you clearly would have no inkling of civility or decency or _courtesy_ … If any of those words mean anything to you.” His dark eyes glanced up at the group behind him. Their cutlasses had been drawn, glinting wickedly in the sunlight. The rest of the crew were stunned to silence, looking on expectantly. Somewhere in the background, he saw pink. Amu was stood by the forecastle. Her eyes were wide in terror. Now seeing his predicament, Ikuto thought quickly. He did not want a fight, after all - not after the lesson he’d been taught that morning… 

Eventually, he released the pirate. The brute fell to his knees, scrabbling at the bulwark in a futile attempt to hold himself up, breathing raggedly. “It is unacceptable to start scuffs amongst ourselves as a crew,” Ikuto said to him, loud enough for everyone to hear; “we won’t be taking this any further.” And then he turned sly. “You wouldn’t want to anger the Captain, now, _would_ you?” The pirate made no reply and the it was clear to everyone present that the warning had been duly noted. Not a single man aboard - not even one of Kazuomi’s men - was eager to provoke their boss’ rage. 

“Well then,” Ikuto said after a moment, as if nothing had happened. “Back to work.” 

Around him, the crew came back to life. The group of thugs stepped aside and Utau was gone quick as a flash into the safety of the corridor. Kukai followed her and Ikuto let him pass. He felt that all-familiar sense of watchful eyes against his back. When he turned, he caught sight of eyes so bright that for a moment he thought he was looking into the setting sun. 

And, across the deck, Amu looked on, discouraged as Ikuto avoided her gaze and slunk off to join a group of pirates who were busy taking up the sails. At least some of her worry had started to ease up. She never wanted to see that again - never wanted to have to sit by and watch as he staggered down into the hold like an injured animal, wounded and bleeding. He must have started to recover if he could so coolly and confidently bring himself to confront another crewmate. 

But then again, she thought after a moment, perhaps not. 

He was still limping. 

~.~.~


	17. Seventeen

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

Solitude was a thing that Ikuto liked to grab at every opportunity he could get his hands on. It was perhaps the only thing that seemed most tangible to him - so real and comforting that many of his most peaceful moments had passed when there was not a soul in sight to disturb him; when the hustle and bustle of the working day had subsided; when there remained not a single pirate on the deck of the Shining Black to spoil the view. Empty; quiet; still… A welcome place for a restless soul to settle beneath the night sky and indulge in that privacy that he craved so badly. 

The Shining Black had had to take an alternative route that afternoon after several military-looking ships had been spotted far off in the distance (well, they said _‘route’_ , but so few of them knew the details of their Captain’s course, so it was probably more accurate to say that they’d simply floated off aimlessly in the opposite direction). And between that and the sight of yet more soulless, gutted remains of unfortunate ships drifting towards them, stained black with soot and sporting the King’s colours, they had begun to fear that no matter where they ventured now, the military could never be too far behind. Just the mere mention sent chills of terror down their backs and so they had fled - fled off into the unknown, away into what they hoped was a region of relative safety and so they were currently anchored inside a natural inlet carved into the crumbling side of a small island - one of the many hunks of rock and greenery scattered across the southern ocean. Naturally defended behind a stretch of rocky outcrop and spared from the strength of the waves by the corals and shoals that scattered the seafloor, it had been the perfect refuge for the night whilst the Royal Navy still prowled and stalked these waters. 

But, more to the point (and quite luckily for Ikuto), remaining stationary for the night meant that there was no need for a helmsman nor any other lingering crew to interrupt the peace. Ikuto, volunteering as watch for the night in case of approaching ships, had the upper decks all to himself. It was perfect. Not a single soul in sight! And not even so much as a speck of trouble on the horizon. Ikuto was barely even worried about that. Few other deep-water vessels knew how to navigate the numerous shoals as they did. Few others knew their patterns and their secret ways and so, should but a single sail pop up in the distance, all Ikuto had to do was shout and sure enough they’d be up and out of there before the enemy even knew what was going on. 

Ikuto leant up against the bulwark and revelled in the quiet, craning his neck over the side to watch the rippling tide way down beneath the ship, bubbling and gurgling so noisily that at first he had thought there were giant fish down there opening and closing their mouths greedily for insects against the water. The tide was ebbing. The breeze was growing increasingly chilly. To the young man’s delight the clouds had parted and up above his head the moon shone bright and full, illuminating the tropical greenery all around, forming shadows that reminded him of the paintings his mother used to hang up in their old home - all black and white, yet still bursting with depth and life. Ikuto cast his eyes over the hunks of rock that poked up from the water at the mouth of the narrow bay - ragged spires and columns coated in a kind of fuzzy vegetation that was unique to this archipelago - and saw the moon drench them in a pale light. They were like half-sunken lighthouses - like time had stopped as a tower had been collapsing. Ikuto gazed at them wistfully. They were so much like his mother’s paintings. 

He used to love that little gallery of hers. He used to love those paintings and all those weird and wonderful statues. There had hung in their gallery so many works of art - depictions of foreign sceneries; town landscapes; ocean views; an entire family tree’s worth of his own ancestral history. She had collected those beloved masterpieces from around the country (sometimes even around the globe when she had travelled earlier in her youth) and she had hung them proudly, chest fit to bursting with glee, in the halls of their mansion before the first spark had flared and the last carefree days of his childhood had been blown away with the dust in the wind. 

Ikuto shivered, though the air didn’t stir. He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to dwell any longer. He didn’t want to let those little gremlins that he had tried so hard to vanquish back into the front of his mind, but, since his little disagreement with the Captain, it was as if every old wound had been torn open - blood flowing free again; the shadows creeping in; claws and fangs and talons all starting to reaffirm their grip on the fabric of his very soul. 

Ikuto slumped himself across the bulwark, running a hand through his dark hair. He was starting to shudder again. He cursed and mentally screamed at himself. He needed to stop being so pathetic. He needed to man up, just like Kazuomi had told him to, but he was trembling now, hunched pitifully over himself, his breathing shallow. He had fought it after Utau had found him (because, even though she’d seen him cry out during his nightmares more times than he wished to count, he was adamant that she would _not_ see him crumble ever again), but he was alone now and the cold was getting to him and the ghosts of his childhood were crashing down upon his shoulders as if they had the entire weight of the sea behind them. 

It was all Kazuomi’s fault. _He_ was the reason the Tsukiyomi family suffered. _He_ was why Ikuto and Utau had been chained to the Shining Black ever since their father had disappeared into the night all those years ago, but, for the life of him, he couldn't figure out _how_ Kazuomi had even become involved in their lives in the first place! What the hell had his father been doing to get them wound up into this mess? His father had always been a kind man; a caring man; a man who could provide and love his family until the very last… 

_“Ikuto…”_

_His father’s voice had always been gentle. It had always been soft and caring and warm, but as his father knelt before him now he sounded careful, hushed as though he was afraid that the very walls themselves might be listening. He took the boy gently by the shoulders and looked deep into his eyes. There was honesty and something solemn somewhere in that dark blue abyss and at the edge of his vision there was a flash of light - of sun upon gold as the chain dangled between his father’s fingers._

_“This Key, Ikuto, this Key is important. It’s so important, Ikuto. It has… It has some sort of power the likes of which I just can’t comprehend. It has some sort of significance quite unlike anything else in this world…”_

_The boy’s eyes were drawn to the Key. It swayed gently between their faces, hypnotising, yet his father carried on and gazed at the clover and its many, gleaming crystals with interest, yet wary._

_“I don’t know what it is about this Key.” he said. “I don’t know what kind of power it holds, but it is imperative, son,_ imperative, _that you should keep it safe? Okay? Okay, son? Can you do that for me?”_

_The chain was lowered into the child’s hand. The Key was heavy in his palm. A larger hand grasped his own and enclosed his fingers around it._

_“I want you to keep this Key a secret, okay? Keep it safe.”_

_The boy nodded firmly. “Yes, father.”_

_Aruto’s smile was brighter than all the sparkle of the Key’s crystals combined. “Good boy, Ikuto,” he said and he ruffled the blue hair of his son’s head that matched his own. “Thank you, son,” he said as he straightened up. “You keep that Key. It’ll be our little secret.”_

_And it remained a secret even after that day. Even after that fateful night. His father left the family home after darkness fell and was not seen again._

_But it was just the beginning. A match had been sparked into life and the loss of his family home had occurred but two weeks later at the hands of a gang of thugs who torched the Tsukiyomi mansion in the dead of night and ripped the place apart as they went, taking the mother, the sister, searching for the boy…_

_Ikuto remembered running through the rubble of the collapsing library, jumping burning piles of the books his father had loved and coughing as his aching lungs screamed in the smoke and the heat of the blaze. He'd left the room and recovered the little package in which he'd stowed away the precious Key his father gave him - tucked safe in a mess of cloth and oilskin scraps he’d found in an old sea chest and stuffed at the back of a chest of drawers. And he had been not a second too late. The thugs had trashed most of the rooms. They had toppled furniture and smashed glass and they had swept through like hurricanes, tearing the place from top to bottom in an endless search… And the words of Ikuto's father were still ringing in his ears as the raiders went on their devastating rampage. They were weighted now. Those words - they held a danger and a significance that pressed down upon Ikuto’s conscience and gripped his heart with a fear like nothing he'd ever experienced before._

_‘This Key…’_

_Its crystals were burnt orange in the light of the distant flames. It seemed heavier and hotter in his palm than ever before. Ikuto shoved it deep into his pocket and panted as he raced through the wreckage, wheezing, covered in blackened muck, clutching the Key through the fabric of his coat;_

_‘I have to keep it safe! I have to find father!’_

_He turned a corner and the screams of his mother reached his ears. She was howling, crying, her voice breaking as she called his sister’s name… And it was only then that Ikuto realised that he may have to try and escape without them. He felt as cold as ice despite the heat of the fire, for, as much as he loved the woman who had given birth to him and raised him and cared for him each and every single day… He could not face those vicious invaders. He was just a child. He would be eaten alive - they would barely have to chew as they snapped him up in their iron jaws, gulping him down, ending his little life. And, as he gripped the Key tighter, he realised... He needed to keep his promise._

_The screaming cut through him like a blade as he ran, trying his hardest not to bawl, consumed by guilt and terror. He only stopped when he reached the east wing. A shadow appeared at the end of the corridor. Ikuto ducked into the nearest room and waited. After a minute, maybe two, it was gone. He cast his eyes over his surroundings._

_Ikuto was about to make a break for it - a window was broken in the opposite hall and he was sure he could squeeze through the gap if he made it past the flames - when an object to the side caught his eye through the haze of smoke. He nearly choked up, recognizing the distinct shape of his father's violin case._

_"F-Father…"_

_And then from high above there sounded a tremendous crack and a groan that echoed throughout the old music room. Ikuto watched in horror as a beam from the high point of the ceiling, flaming madly, began to creak and give beneath the pressure of the caving floors above. A single glowing ember fell from the rafters. Ikuto’s eyes followed it as it leisurely drifted down, down, down…_

_It landed on his father’s violin case. There was a faint hissing as it singed the tough leather. A sudden, petrifying chill gripped at Ikuto’s heart. The ceiling was creaking and cracking and protesting dangerously again and he realised that in only a matter of seconds the entire thing would come caving in…_

_And it would take his father’s most treasured instrument with it._

_There was a deafening groan. Without thinking, Ikuto made a dive for it and the only coherent thought that rang in his head were no longer for his mother or for Utau or for the safety of his own skin;_

_‘No! You can’t! That’s father’s!’_

_Luck was on Ikuto’s side. He managed beyond all odds to grab his father’s case and roll back out into the hallway a mere split-second before the beams above gave their last ounce of strength and collapsed as a fireball, taking with them the entire room and all inside it. The young boy looked back, heartbroken, at the pile of hot brick and plaster and charred wood before taking his chance, crossing the hallway and wriggling - violin and all - out the broken window and into the night._

_And then the months grew colder and the nights darker and Ikuto was sure that he had been as close to death as one can be before he had been scooped up from the alleyway - the same grotty, frosty, cat and vermin-infested alleyway he had laid his head in every night since his home had burnt to the ground - and found himself for the first time looking up into the eyes of man who was behind it all._

_“There’s a good boy, Ikuto…”_ his _voice… It had always been a sneer. Always empty. Always merciless. “You wouldn’t want to stay in that squalor for any longer now, would you?”_

_Ikuto, alone and frightened and still covered in grime from that dingy side-street, repeated himself, fiercer now;_

_“Where’s my_ father?” 

_But the Captain, stood towering and foreboding behind his desk, never answered. He stared that same cold stare at the boy who had been dumped at his feet, pinned beneath his gaze, and said sternly;_

__

__

_“Now, it’s very important now that you listen to me, Ikuto.” he began, pacing. “Your father had something, Ikuto. Something_ important. _Something small, something valuable… Now, tell me, did you ever see him carry around things of such the sort? A small trinket?” And he paused and outside lightning flashed across the dark sky. “Say… A_ Key?” 

_His stomach twisted. Ikuto swallowed, feeling strangled._

_“Come on, now, Ikuto. You could be a_ great _help to me here if you just act like the good little boy I’m sure you are... “ Ichinomiya leant forwards. Ikuto took a step back. “You father was carrying around something that, well… Something he really_ shouldn’t _have had…” A pause. “You’d want to do the right thing, wouldn’t you, Ikuto?”_

_His father was many things, he knew. But he had not been a thief. Ikuto’s very being burned with the injustice. He spat; “Where is my father? What have you done with him?”_

_But it was too late and, as Kazuomi’s shadow crossed the room, Ikuto realised now that he’d been thrown into something far deeper than he’d first thought._

_“You’ll stay with me now, boy.” Came the rumbling reply. “You’ll stay here and work for your new father.”_

_“No… No, I won’t!” Ikuto balled his little fists, trying to sound fierce, but his voice was breaking and his eyes were burning; “W-Where_ is _he? Where’s my dad? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY DAD?”_

“Father never knew the significance of that Key…” Ikuto murmured distantly as the heat of his heart began to cool in the night air. “How the hell did Kazuomi find out about it..?” 

How the hell indeed? And how in God’s name would he be rid of it? Ikuto wasn’t even sure if he welcomed it anymore - that extra shackle that came with his father’s secret, yet at the same time… In some way he had always treasured it. In some strange way, he had always felt comforted by that little trinket that had passed between his and his parent’s fingers for the very last time. 

And then there was the other half. The Lock. 

The Captain was no fool. And nor was Ikuto. He knew that she had had it that night. It shone on her neck in paintings; in portraits of the royal line that hung in every court of law throughout the country. That strange, bright, naïve young girl… She had had it. That Lock that Kazuomi so desperately wanted. Ikuto couldn’t even begin to describe how badly, how honestly, he still couldn’t believe it, but all he could do now was to hope and pray and plead that she would not slip up in her own story. All he could do was beg that the Captain did not find out.

Because if he did… 

Ikuto shook his head uselessly. It didn’t even bear thinking about. He glanced back towards the cabin area. It was late and all around the greenery of the island remained pale in the moonlight. That was a good sign, Ikuto thought. There was no glow from the stern window and so no likelihood that the Captain was even still awake. Surely he was passed out cold by now - lulled into a senseless stupor by brandy and rum, lying surrounded by broken bottles and spilled tobacco - and the rest of the crew below slept like logs. Even Kazuomi’s spies had been called off, it seemed, and Ikuto had seen them all fast asleep for perhaps the first time in his life. It was truly a relief. But it was also an opportunity. With not a soul aboard to watch him, Ikuto quietly slipped away and into the hold, still limping, trying to tip-toe all the way to the very last deck - to that special, secret place that only he knew of. 

When he reappeared the moon shone bright on his face and the case was heavy in his arms. Battered and worn, Ikuto ran his fingers over the old violin and his heart swelled. Gently his fingertips caressed the face of the instrument - over every grain, every string, every remnant of his father that he still had left to cling to. So deeply linked he felt to that ghost of a man as he stood proud and alone beneath the heavens, resting the violin against his chin, the feel of the bow familiar and natural in his hand. 

His father used to play more often when he was stressed, Ikuto remembered. It was therapeutic, so he recalled. It made him feel, Aruto had said, as though it allowed him to channel his anxiety - as though every worry, every doubt would be set free from the confines within his soul and would flow endlessly as he played, out through his fingers and into nothingness, dissipating, leaving his head clear and chest light. 

And so, his heart weighted and his shoulders heavy, Ikuto stood and looked out to sea and he played. Just like his father would have wanted him to. 

~.~.~

The frigate groaned under the weight of her stern rocking with the receding tide. The beams creaked and cracked, the very ship itself groaning and mumbling as some giant beast being roused from slumber, awakened from its peaceful escape. The night was heavy and the air thick and, just as the Shining Black stirred again, so the Princess woke in a daze in her tiny box of a cabin. 

Amu huffed in agitation, disturbed from her own restful sleep, as she lay sweltering in the humidity. If there was one thing that would keep her from sleep, she thought, it would be the heat. It had been bearable when she’d gone to bed, but the ship had still been moving south and now the heat was stifling, seeping in through the bed sheets, trapping itself beneath the fabric of her gown. The tropics weren’t to her liking, she had decided, and often at night she found herself craving the temperate climate of her own dear nation. Still, at the very least she was away from the mosquitoes and all the other damned bugs that threw themselves noisily at her window, buzzing and thudding away against the glass. 

Amu kicked away at the covers in frustration, fanning herself and huffing again in an attempt to expel any hot air that had crept its way under her blanket. She felt like sobbing. Uncomfortable and unable to settle, Amu guessed that she’d only had perhaps a couple hours of sleep at the most. She’d have a hard time getting to work tomorrow if this was to keep up. 

Determined and desperate, she threw her bedsheets onto the floor beside her and tried not to grimace as the dust on the floor was kicked up in a fine cloud. She’d deal with that tomorrow, but, for now, all that mattered was trying to relax. She needed to be rested enough for the day ahead - she could barely function with this little sleep! Amu lay spread-eagled on the mattress, trying to ignore the trickle of sweat working down her back, laying her head heavily on the pillow and letting her eyes drop because maybe - just _maybe!_ \- if she could lay here still and calm enough then eventually the tiredness would wash over her. Eventually that heavy night would weigh her chest and lighten her head and the exhaustion would sweep over strong enough for her to slowly drift… 

Slowly… 

_‘Slowly…’_

And then, just as she thought she was about to leave the world behind, Amu stirred again… 

_‘Music..?’_

Notes were pulling her - gripping at her consciousness and hauling her out of the fog. They were calling her, drifting to meet her ears, willing her back to the world of the waking like smelling salts beneath her nose. 

Amu, subconsciously rising from her bed, sat up and frowning, heard it as clear as day. 

Sorrow and wistful and longing… 

Amu heard it, but, more than anything, she felt it. She rubbed her eyes, shaking away any hint of sleep, and turned her head to the window. Moths were gathering at her windowpane and little hard-shelled nymphs wriggled along the side of the ship, but their irritating buzz and chatter was gone now - lost to the faint melody that wove its way through the breeze outside. The moon was high and the sun well and truly set. Each of the crew, she thought, must have been well and truly out for the count in their makeshift hammocks down below… 

So where was that music coming from? 

Sirens? Spirits? Island natives? Amu’s mind ran wild with the possibilities, already giving in to the notion that she must have been dreaming. This must have all been a delusion, she thought, created from her hopeless fatigue and drowsy head… But everything else was so real. So alive. The heat was real. The sweat, cold and unpleasant, was real. The floorboards creaked and squeaked with the rocking of the ship just as they did each night and every morning; and outside those pesky insects still launched their assault on the porthole like acorns falling from the oak trees and onto the roof of the balcony back at the Hotori home where she and Tadase had used to sit and play as children. 

That tune was real. That tune was alive. But it was so full of depth and soul that it couldn’t _possibly_ have been any of those ruffians down below… Could it? 

Amu leaned closer, pressing her face up against the glass and straining her ears. She was disappointed that the damn thing had to remain closed. It meant no breeze and no easy access to the music outside, but it was preferable to having mosquitoes nip and suck at her skin all night. No, it had to stay closed… Finding no other alternative and her curiosity already piqued, Amu frantically looked around the cabin as if there was not a moment to lose - as if the music would cease if she dallied too long. She tip-toed over to the door and pressed her ear against the frame. 

_‘Just a short listen…’_ Amu thought. 

But this resolve was quickly shattered. Amu’s hand rested upon the doorknob… And it moved. 

A soft creak; the slow click of the latch; and the door cracked open. Amu, for a moment, was stunned. Ah, that was right. Ikuto hadn’t taken her back to her cabin that day. She had made her own way back and he had looked as though his mind had been elsewhere… She didn’t blame him. Not when she had the feeling that he’d had an encounter with the Captain; not when he looked like he was struggling to stand; not when she was sure that she could spot, just faintly, something dark and sore welling up on the side of his jaw. 

But Amu hadn’t realised that she’d been effectively free to roam the ship that night. It hit her with a rush of excitement. _‘Freedom!’_ What a wonderful thing! What a liberty she had not been granted her entire time on this ship! 

And now that opportunity had been opened up to her. Amu nudged the rough surface of the door and watched it swing open, almost giggling to herself. _‘Oh no,’_ she thought, testing the waters and sliding a single foot over the threshold; _‘what an accident - how unfortunate!’_ And with the door almost fully open and the corridor stood ahead of her, the light of the moon trickling through the doors beyond - so teasingly, so tantalisingly close! There beyond lay such unrestricted access! - she grinned devilishly to herself and took the plunge. 

The security of her cabin was gone, left behind her, and the ominous shadow of the Captain’s cabin seemed to loom over her shoulders as she pressed forwards… But Amu didn’t care. Not tonight. Not when sleep was so far and her curiosity so intense - not above all when that tempting melody was ringing clearer now throughout the panelled room! Amu stood before the double doors at the end of the corridor, the night outside dark purple and blue against the patterns of the glass. The music was louder, clearer now and she paused, breath taken, as as the tune in all its clarity met her ears. 

Oh, it was beautiful. And she needed more. 

Amu’s grip tightened, pushing the doors wide open, allowing the cool rush of night air to greet her; to wash over the shadows of the foliage; the silver moon; the hush of the tide… 

And stood on the forecastle stood Ikuto; eyes closed, his slender fingers on the bow of his violin and the melody dancing from the strings, rushing through his fingertips and into the night.

~.~.~


	18. Eighteen

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

Amu breathed slowly, mesmerised; the breath from her lips stolen and cast away into the wind, dancing in the breeze, twirling amongst those notes that swept all around her. All the words in the world of literature failed in that moment to describe the awe she felt as she watched Ikuto - that mysterious pirate - produce such unbelievable sound, so captivating, yet so out of place on the deck of the gigantic frigate. 

There was an allure to it - something about that music that carried so much weight and emotion that it tugged at something within her chest and, as the violinist hit a new high to draw out another sequence of spectacular notes, the breath hitched in her throat. Amu had heard nothing like it; seen nothing like it… And certainly she had never seen that pirate before her in such a state of serenity. It was like looking at a piece of his soul - something she had once thought to be blackened by smoke and thin as paper… 

But this was the most personal thing Amu had ever witnessed and she almost felt guilty for watching it. 

And it only made her want to delve deeper. What else, she wondered, lay beneath that cool exterior? What other unexpected treasures had he hidden away from her and his crew, she wondered, because Amu saw now that this was truly a part of him. He and the violin and the music; the night and the breeze; the stars above - they all appeared to merge in that single moment. And if this melody was truly Ikuto singing out into the night, creating something so hauntingly beautiful, yet sorrowful, then he was without a doubt a diamond in the rough and it was sad that he should have to hide such talent - hide _himself_ \- like he had done. How Amu would ever consider changing that, she did not know, but still… Nothing tried was nothing gained. Nothing this beautiful, she thought, should be allowed to slip through her fingers. 

And then a shrill squeak rent the night - the masterpiece cut off abruptly. Ikuto glanced up, his eyes glinting, bow paused midway through his latest composition. Amu jumped and almost shrunk away back into the shadows of the corridor. 

Ikuto heaved an almighty sigh that Amu couldn’t read and lowered his violin. 

“Oh,” he said, monotone. “It’s you.” And he relaxed visibly, for it was true that Ikuto had never planned on letting the Princess to stumble across one of his well-guarded secrets, but, then again, it was certainly a lot better for _her_ to witness his performance than most other people. “What are you doing out of your cabin?” 

He didn’t sound angry, so Amu stepped forwards again. She flushed, suddenly on the spot. “U-Uh, you...” She looked down at her hands. It was a disappointment to realise that he wasn’t going to continue making such extraordinary music whilst she was stood there. “M-My door…”

“Damn.” Ikuto interrupted. “I forgot to lock your cabin…” He cursed quietly under his breath as he bent down and lowered his instrument carefully back into its proper casing. How could he have allowed himself to be so distracted? The Captain was but a breath away from her cabin door. If he’d have seen it… The thought sent shivers down his spine. He tried to convince himself it was just the cold chill of the night air. The day had been long and his duties had dragged and his leg still ached from the fury of his stepfather’s boot… 

Ikuto needed rest. He needed respite. And he would get all of that acting as watchman for the evening, but first he needed to take their captive back to her room (and make sure she stayed there). Yet all the will to work was gone; his body was drained; and, besides, the Princess probably wouldn’t leave him be without making a fuss - not after walking into something like that. As it was, she was already edging closer, stepping onto the deck as he rubbed his temples and wandered over to lean against the bulwark. 

“Y-You’re not going to play anymore?” Amu already knew the answer, but it was worth asking. She wasn’t even surprised when he responded, distant; 

“You should probably go back inside.” he said. “It’s late.” 

Amu grimaced at the thought of going back to her stuffy confinements. The cool air here was much nicer. “With respect, Ikuto,” she said; “it’s quite pleasant out here. I probably wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway for a few hours or so…” she trailed off, seeing the man lose interest. He was staring vacantly at the greenery that surrounded the inlet. Amu glanced around, feeling increasingly uncomfortable as the man went blank, but it was still there nagging away at her - that wish to stumble across that rare, gentle side of him more often; to break that wave of indifference that had washed over him. 

Ikuto didn’t even notice her sidle over until she already had her elbows rested on top of the bulwark beside him. 

“I think your music is beautiful, Ikuto.” she said. “Where did you learn to play like that?” 

He swallowed his dry throat before responding carefully; “A relative.” he said and he had to admit that he felt far calmer thinking about his father now than he had done a few moments ago. He wouldn’t have minded responding clearer even, had his mind not been so low that day - had he not felt so kicked down and useless that he couldn’t bear to allow even the faintest ray of sunlight to penetrate the veil around his close-guarded heart. Because, if that happened, he thought, then all of his secrets would be dragged kicking and screaming from that dusty cupboard that he had tried so hard to keep locked up - to banish from memory… 

And he was too weak to take them all on that night. 

In truth Ikuto wanted to scream. He wanted to shout and yell up to the sky - to declare to the world that that man locked away in his hellhole of a cabin was not his real father. That _Aruto_ Tsukiyomi was his parent! That great musician who was famed throughout Seiyo in those golden days of his childhood… Sometimes, even, Ikuto would wish that Amu _would_ go on to ask him about his stepfather - that she perhaps would pester him for something more specific if only so he could rid her of the illusion that he was related to that _awful_ Captain… 

But his true bloodline was unbeknownst to the heiress. In her mind, ‘family’ meant none other than Captain Ichinomiya and so she would shrink back, unwilling to be reminded of the man who had snatched her from her home and thrown her out to sea. Amu bit her lip to remind herself to be considerate. She just nodded slowly. 

A cloud that had been drifting lazily to obscure the moon - hanging full and bright in the sky - had dissipated now; its layers carried off and split apart until they were out of sight, revealing in all its glory that lunar orb afloat above their heads. The world was new and surreal in this light. Amu began to think that she had been thoroughly mistaken in overlooking the beauty of this place when she had lain agitated and flushed in her cabin bed, for if this was but a _tiny_ example of the wonders in the world that these people got to see throughout their whole lives… It was remarkable. Could she see the heavens shine on still seas or the tropical palms sway gently beneath the warm glow of the moon from her balcony in the centre of the capital? Of course she couldn't. And yet here there slept an entire ships’ worth of men who did on a daily basis. Surely they would have far more appreciation in their lives for nature and all its beauty than she or anyone else ever could back at home. 

The Princess remained in a stunned silence, settling into the quiet. She turned to face the man beside her. Ikuto was watching the dark ripples forming beneath the ship; half-bathed in light, half in the dark as the moonbeams rained down on them. But it was the shadow in his eyes that caught her attention. It was not unlike sorrow. 

“I-Ikuto…” 

“Mm?”

Amu hesitated for only a moment before pushing herself forwards. She had seen so much more of Ikuto that night than she supposed he would ever have wanted her to, but, though the thought had her reluctant, it still only made her more determined to at least _begin_ to crack that mask he wore, if not break it. She didn’t think he would ever want to completely open up around _her_ , of all people… But there was no benefit in blocking out the world and burying your head in the sand. Amu knew that at least. She swallowed. 

“I couldn’t help but notice that you were distracted today, Ikuto.” she said and she noticed the way his pupils darted back up from the water. “What’s going on?” 

Ikuto didn’t even have time to think of a good enough answer. Amu’s brows knitted firmly together, eyes burning bright and resolute. She remembered the way he had limped so tragically across the deck that day - like an injured animal crawling away to lick its wounds and wallow in the safety of its den. She grit her teeth if only to stop from growling aloud; 

“What happened?” 

His jaw clenched and a gruff sort of breath left his throat, but it wasn’t enough to frighten her away. Ikuto saw her eyes fall upon his forming bruise and felt like slinking away, back into the shadows, and hiding all over again. 

But Amu was not stupid. She knew. _He_ knew that she knew. And it only served to fuel his annoyance. 

“Why should Her Highness care?” Ikuto spat, more fiercely than he meant to. 

He expected her to step back, to flush bright red with embarrassment and shuffle away from him, but she didn’t. Amu only glared at him, infuriated as she watched him pile the bricks back up again to repair that casing around himself; around his heart; around whatever slept deep within his soul, stirred only by the pull of the strings of his violin. Why was he so unwilling to help himself? _Why_ when Kazuomi was not even there with them to observe and scrutinise? 

“Don’t try and push me away, Ikuto!” Amu retorted firmly, her gaze scalding, and apparently it hit a nerve because he shrunk, slouching against his armrest. Her heart softened, her tone gentle and pleading. “Ikuto…” 

A couple of seconds passed during which Ikuto looked to be at war with himself. Eventually, the pirate sighed - a long, hefty sigh of defeat - and contemplated his wording. “I made a move out of line.” 

Amu’s fears were confirmed with that one, resigned statement. The image of the Captain inflicting such fury upon him made her stomach twist. “That’s not right, Ikuto!” she said, leaving no room for argument. “He shouldn’t be allowed to treat you like that!” 

Ikuto shrugged far more casually than he felt. “Fear is his primary control.” he said simply. “Besides, what did you expect? He’s the Captain. Who would question him whilst he still keeps a pistol by his side?” 

The Princess shook her head. “Such is the life of a corrupt buccan crew.” 

He let out what might have been a dry chuckle. Amu had to admit, it was quite extraordinary - most pirate crews were incredibly democratic, from what she understood at least. Even Tadase had taken the time to express his amazement once or twice because, after all, he had never quite believed that they were much more than loose, ravenous dogs. But, whatever the case with most corsairs, this here was something else entirely. Here Captain Ichinomiya would go that extra mile to ensure his order, no matter what the cost. This was a dictatorship. No doubt his group of brutes had something to do with it - the crew were so uneasy around them and Amu thought she understood them perfectly. 

“Of course,” Amu resigned, thinking this over. “The Captain _wouldn’t_ take anyone else into account, it figures.” 

“Of course.” Ikuto replied. “He has his goals and he’ll do whatever he can for them.” 

Amu swallowed. “Like my Lock.” 

A pause. 

“Yeah.” Ikuto said. “Like your Lock.” 

Ikuto watched from the corner of his eye as the young woman’s fingers drifted up to her neck. That space above her heart still sat empty as ever, pale skin glowing in the light of the moon. He saw something dim in her eyes. He breathed unsteadily. 

“You know,” her voice brought him back to earth again; “I’m not sure how much _you_ know, Ikuto-” (oh, how the guilt gnawed at him - how ashamed he felt that she had to be left in the dark…) “-but I can only wish I’d found out more about that Locket now,” she admitted; “because I’d never have thought that that little accessory would be more than just that. I’d never have suspected that something so small could be tied to greater things… And obviously there’s far more to it than I could ever have thought.” Amu, a hand still resting cold and heavy on her chest, sighed, voice wavering, the breeze sweeping pink strands over her face. “Just why the Captain wants it…” 

Beside her, Ikuto watched, his jaw clenched. She had turned away, staring vacantly out towards the wall of the inlet beyond. There was a silence - heavy and uncomfortable - during which Ikuto wondered whether or not he should quickly take her back to bed until- 

“I…” Amu had barely spoken, but the way her voice cracked tore at something deep inside his chest. “I can’t live in the dark _forever_ …” she whispered. “What does he _want_ with my Lock..?” 

Ikuto drew a sharp breath. 

_“What have you done with my dad?”_

_‘Oh God…’_

_“What have you DONE with him?”_

_‘Oh Lord above…’_

Ikuto’s chest felt tight. His fists gripped at the loose sleeves of his shirt. He groaned inside and despaired as he peered over at the grim hopelessness that clouded such perfect golden eyes. 

Why did he see the reflection of that little, lost boy in those pleading eyes of hers? _Why_ did his resolve waver and crumble instinctively under her influence? Under _Amu’s_ influence. Amu - a spark aboard the Shining Black; a ray of sunlight… The reason for his sudden, if brief, period of contentment. 

But Ikuto saw the way her fists clenched; the way her breath drew shaky; he heard the waver of her voice and he realised that that light was dimming. Dimming as the weight of the situation fell upon her - as Kazuomi enclosed her in darkness, cutting her off from all she should have known. Ikuto didn't know why his very being protested at the notion. For that hopeful light to fade… It was almost _unthinkable_ to him. 

And the truth was that he _did_ see that child from all those years ago as she turned to face him, looking but an inch from breaking under his gaze. He saw that poor, unfortunate child - begging and crying and dragged unwillingly into it all without so much as a mere _hint_ as to why - and, well, it was enough to strike a chord. It touched a nerve, made his very being rile up in protest, because all of a sudden Ikuto realised that he knew almost exactly how she felt. And to know that it was the same man - the same Captain - who had caused her such distress… 

Well, it was the final push Ikuto needed. 

What he knew would either captivate or break her… 

But she _needed_ to see it. She had the right to know - just as he had. And, for the life of him, he couldn't bear to let her light go out. And so, wordlessly, he reached into his pocket; felt cool metal against his fingers... 

And, before he could think twice, Ikuto drew out the Golden Lock - the very source of all her heartbreak! - and held it up to meet her eyeline, letting it dangle in the cool night air. Reflected in the sleek surface of its many crystals, Amu gaped. 

Her reaction he would never forget. The cloud of misery vanished, eyes glowing like fresh embers. Amu’s heart stopped. She gasped audibly, her jaw dropping open, the very picture of astonishment. Ikuto tried not to smirk in triumph, swelling with pride… Basking in a sudden rush of hope as she shone bright again before his very eyes. 

_“I-Ikuto..!”_

And, for a long time, Amu could not find the words. Ikuto wondered whether she would be upset with him once she had calmed down. He wondered if she would resent him - despise him, even, for keeping such a precious possession so tantalisingly out of reach for so long… 

But it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that she _knew._

Silently, he reached for the hand that had rested at her neck. She said nothing, did nothing, as he took her hand in his, his skin rough and cool against her own (she flushed only slightly in her state of shock), and lowered the Lock into her palm. 

It was true. He had kept it from her. He had caught sight of that flash of precious metal beneath her cloak that very first night just outside that little coastal town… And he had panicked. And he’d never told her. Until now. Honestly, Ikuto would never have blamed her if she decided to hate him. He’d never protest if she wanted to take her time tonight to verbally abuse him; to add to the pain that his stepfather had already inflicted upon his weakened spirit. 

But, all of a sudden, Amu’s face lit up. Tears were gathering at the corners of her eyes, sparkling with glee. Her dainty fingers closed around the smooth surface of her beloved Humpty Lock, revelling in the cool touch of crystal and gold, and when she smiled she shone as bright as the moon in the sky. 

_“Thank you!”_

And Ikuto allowed himself, just this once, the smallest of smiles. 

“You’re welcome, Your Highness.” 

_“Ikuto…!”_ Amu was captivated, running her thumb across the surface of her long-lost trinket over and over and _over_ again, as if making sure it was really there - as if she were afraid that it was nothing but an illusion, a trick of the light that would vanish suddenly beneath her touch. But it didn’t. The Humpty Lock lay flat in her palm as solid and clear as day and Amu’s heart suddenly felt warm. That space in her chest - that hollow space that had plagued her every thought ever since she had first woken up, stripped bare, on this ship - was filling up little by little. And she was _ecstatic._

“I-Ikuto, h-how..?” 

“I’m sorry, Amu,” Ikuto said quietly. “He would probably have killed you.” 

Amu didn’t need to ask. He didn’t need to clarify. It was true - the Captain would have had no need for her had he found that Lock upon her when she’d been kidnapped. 

“I’m giving it back to you,” he went on slowly; “if you can keep it safe.” 

Amu needed no other explanation. “Yes!” she nodded fiercely, feeling a little breathless. “Yes, yes, of _course,_ Ikuto-!” 

“And,” he cut her off; “there’s something else…” 

The Princess frowned. “Something else?” she repeated dumbly, but she said nothing more, wordlessly waiting for the man to continue. She watched him curiously; watched the way his brows furrowed; the way his lips pursed together as though he were struggling with something she could not understand. 

And so she watched patiently as Ikuto dug his hand once more into his pocket. When he drew it back out, his fist was firmly clenched. “He will ask you about it.” Ikuto said. “Sooner or later he will ask you about it, so...” 

By the time he had finished speaking, he’d opened up his palm and Amu blinked, open-mouthed once again as her eyes settled on a _key._ A Golden Key. A perfect match to the Lock held tight in her grasp - it’s crystals a perfect mirror; shaped like a clover; laced with delicate, swirling gold filigree… Amu couldn’t believe it. There was another half! All those years she’d had sat in her room and admired her mother’s Lock and wondered if there was anything in this world made to fit so precisely into that delicate keyhole… 

It existed. And after all this time… _He_ had it. 

Oh, and they couldn’t have been more different! They could not have been in more contrasting places. The Lock - a treasure of royalty; and the Key - in the hands of a pirate. 

“This is…” Amu looked up at him. Ikuto nodded. “Oh Lord,” she covered her mouth with a hand and was quiet until she was sure her voice could actually function without failing her. _“You_ have the Key to my Lock? How did you get it? Ikuto, why do _you_ have it?” 

Ikuto was idly twirling his other half in his palm, never taking his eyes off of it, entranced. “It was handed down to me,” he explained; “also by a relative.” 

Amu still felt a little uneasy about that subject, so she stayed silent. 

“Amu,” Ikuto said after a while and his voice was so serious that she felt that unease take a hold of her heart. “You know that Kazuomi wants your lock.” She nodded. “Well, what do you think he’d give for the Key that goes with it?” 

The Princess eyed him curiously for a moment and recalled that day when she’d been marched into the Captain’s cabin. The Captain… His eyes had held that mad spark that so terrified her. And even then it had been obvious to her that Ikuto was keen to keep it a secret that she might’ve had any sort of locket upon her at the time of her kidnapping. These two objects - these matching trinkets - for whatever reason, were immaculately linked. 

And, though she did not understand why, she thought that she understood just _enough._ The Captain could not get his hands on them. 

“You don’t want him to have them.” Amu said, more to herself than to the man beside her. “But… Why?” 

"Right now," he said; "it doesn't matter." He glanced over and caught the frustration that he could tell was beginning to build up behind her fiery gaze. "Maybe some other time I might be able to tell you, but for now you have to understand: Kazuomi _cannot_ know that the Dumpty Key is mine…” 

She nodded, slowly, but it wasn’t enough. 

“Amu,” Ikuto said sternly. He leaned in close - so close that Amu could feel his cool breath on her cheeks. “You understand?” 

Amu wondered if he was trying to look fierce… But all she saw was desperation. She nodded. “Yes.” she said softly. “Yes, Ikuto. I understand. I promise you - I won’t tell a soul.” 

Satisfied, Ikuto visibly relaxed. “Thank you, Amu.” 

She smiled. “Thank _you.”_

At that, Ikuto chuckled, a rare, joyous light flashing in his dark eyes. Amu nodded to the Key in his hand. “I can’t believe it. She said. “It’s gorgeous.” 

Ikuto held the Key up before their faces. The brightness of the moon that bathed the deck in a silvery hue now pierced the clear gems of its face and rebounded within, bouncing away from the angles of the cut, sending miniature rays of white light into the air. It was a wonderfully crafted piece of jewellery. It was simply beautiful - a true work of craftsmanship unlike any in the world today. When Amu raised her Lock, comparing the two, her face was brightened. She looked angelic. 

A comfortable silence overcame them then. With a tug on the chain, Ikuto had whipped the Dumpty Key back into his palm and he clenched his fist, obscuring the item from her view, much to Amu’s disappointment. But it was no matter. The two of them settled, leaning against the bulwark in the cool, empty night. It was as if something had passed between the two of them - unspoken, yet set in stone; tangible and mutual; and for the first time in a long, _long_ time, Amu forgot that she was stood beside a pirate, cast adrift in unknown waters. 

Despite the occasional chill of the breeze, Amu felt warm. She was practically glowing inside, the weight of the Lock in her palm more of a comfort than anything she had felt in weeks. This night was cleansing, she thought. This was a new beginning. Amu hushed and craned her neck back to stare at the sky. Against the dark velvet of night there glittered but a single star - way out there beyond the surface of the sea, beyond the greenery and the fallen towers and the masts of the ship above. She watched, the seconds ticking by, the moon reflecting in her golden eyes… 

And then it seemed to her that a match had been lit; that a fire had kindled; and suddenly the very sky was sparked to life..! 

Stars were springing out from the darkness - _bursting_ to life! - out of nowhere! First one and then a hundred all at once, burning brighter and shining stronger the longer she looked until the night transformed into a vibrant ocean, so similar to the way the sun sparkled on the waves of the sea, breathing and ablaze with life the likes of which Amu had never seen before. Out to sea the waters were calm. Starlight shone, twinkling, against the waves and suddenly the Shining Black was bobbing sleepily on a sea of diamonds. They could have been sailing through an ocean of glass or else soaring through the night itself - set high above the clouds, cruising through the constellations. Amu’s breath was caught in her throat. Time had slowed - ground to gentle halt, in time with the slow beat of the sea. She stole a glance at Ikuto to her side. The blue of his eyes was flecked with starlight, melting into the masterpiece of the sky above, and Amu realised… 

This was the sky that she had so wished to see. _This_ was night that she had longed for all these years, sat up awake and restless by her balcony doors, tearing her eyes across the heavens and praying for that heavenly light to bless their city once again. This was the kind of night that had tugged at her heart and captured her imagination - that made her heartbeat skip with glee and her cheeks glow, childish and thrilling. _This_ was the kind of ethereal beauty that lit up her very being. 

Amu could barely speak, grinning with exhilaration, as she and Ikuto stood together beneath the astral plane and drank in the calm of the night. The Lock and Key - stood under the sky, beneath the light of the constellations together for the first time in living memory. 

Ikuto’s body heat radiated beside her. His breathing was as slow and steady as the breaking of the waves on the hull of the ship. The celestial light soothed out the bruise on his face; the furrows in his brow; it had the tension in his shoulders melting away. Besides those precious few seconds she had witnessed of his musical performance, Amu had never seen him so at ease, looking far younger than his years. It was a welcoming change. Her heart was thudding - beating like she hadn’t felt since that day he’d cared for her in her illness. She wanted to speak to him; she wanted to say something - _anything!_ \- but he looked far away himself, captivated. He had noticed it too, Amu thought. And truly it was the first clear night Ikuto had seen in a long, long time. 

Perhaps, he thought (and not for the first time), that despite all the devilry that Kazuomi tried to work on him, his nights might just have been growing a little brighter… 

Eventually, Ikuto shifted on his spot against the side of the ship and Amu was snapped out of her daze. She heard him chuckle lowly and she blushed. She hadn’t even realised she’d been yawning. 

“Let me take you back to your cabin,” Ikuto said. He smirked, but it lacked the mischief it once held. It was softer, fonder. “Get some rest. The Captain will have my head if he finds out you’ve been out during the night.” 

“I’ll be fine, Ikuto,” Amu said quietly. “I can head back myself.” 

“I’ll be inside to lock your door in a little while.” 

Amu smiled gratefully and complied, beginning to make her way aft back to the hot, stuffy air that surely still lingered in the room, but her mind was on much more important matters. The mysteries behind the Humpty Lock and Dumpty Key still plagued her mind, but, above all that, she couldn’t help but admit she was astounded. She did not expect to have such a meaningful conversation with Ikuto that night. She did not expect to find out that he was the holder of the Key. She had never thought that he would hold such incredible, _impeccable_ talent - that his music would surpass all other musicians she had seen in her time and now, after all that, she began to feel that maybe, just _maybe_ , he was beginning to trust her… And so Amu was beginning to trust him far more than she ever thought. 

Ikuto watched her leave; watched the woman amble back across the deck and slip through the door inside and wondered… Just _what_ was it about her? Just what was it that had led to him revealing one of his biggest, most guarded secrets? To trusting her? To laying himself so bare before her very eyes without fear? 

She was fascinating. 

How did she do it? How did she get through to him like that? Why did he want to open up when she was around? All he had wanted was to push her away (because she really, _really_ didn't want to get involved and if she did then, by Gods, she would have all his sympathy because Amu didn't deserve to be Kazuomi's prisoner all her life) but now Ikuto felt his resolve wavering and crumbling, slipping like dust through his fingertips as his eyes locked with those golden ones that dazzled like the sun on the water and shone like candlelight. 

_'How?'_

But there was no time to dwell on it. Ikuto brought out his most treasured possession once again and, alone and with no one else to witness, he ran his thumb over the Key’s flawless crystals. He remembered the way it reflected the heat of the fire so hauntingly, yet now it had been graced by honey gold and the tightness in his chest was beginning to ease away - the old, unwanted memories shrinking back into the depths of his mind. 

And it was then that something seemed to become clear in his head - in his _heart_ \- as if the new moon and sudden starlight had cast their blessed glow upon him and illuminated all he had been too blind to see. It blossomed from deep within, spreading through his weary soul like the first new blooms of spring, warm and beautiful and refreshing - like a cherry blossom, light as a feather, pink as her hair… 

Ikuto’s breath caught in his throat. 

_‘Oh no.’_

And Ikuto could deny it no longer. 

He was in serious trouble. 

But, whatever notion had been allowed to take a hold of him, it would have to stay caged, hidden from view. She truly _was_ fascinating. But she was also his Captain’s captive. 

Sighing, but feeling lighter than he had in years, Ikuto eventually followed the Princess towards the aftercastle, keys already in hand to secure her door for the night. 

~.~.~


	19. Nineteen

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

Amu awoke the following morning in a daze, having had very little sleep, with the Humpty Lock in her hand and her mind far away, for her head she still lingered out on the deck of the Shining Black beneath the starlight. She drifted back to the sight of the moonbeams dancing in the crystals of the Dumpty Key; to the glorious night she had waited her whole life to watch; to the honest, midnight eyes of the buccaneer beside her… 

She had fallen asleep eventually (when, she could not tell) with that violin’s sorrowful melody still playing in her head. She had drifted to the sound of symphonies; to the eerie notes and squeak of strings and, in what little dreams she’d had, she had seen herself dancing beneath the glow of the night sky, music swirling purple about her hair, blue eyes reflected in the shimmer of gold… 

Her heart pounding, Amu sat up with a start. Her cabin was bathed in the light of a fresh, pink sunrise. She huffed a breath of warm air, still plagued by humidity from the day before, and turned onto her side, bringing the Lock up to her face, running her fingers over the smooth cool of the crystals. The beating of her heart was only quelled by the thought of all the questions that still whirled about unanswered in her hazy mind. To think that something so small had turned out to be so significant… It stumped her. Amu shook her head and laughed a little at herself. She’d had no idea. If something like this could have been so drastically important, then what number of _other_ things was she oblivious to? 

There was just so much that Amu did not know. 

She had not known that her Lock was more than a mere trinket. She did not know what it was for. Did her mother know? How long would it be before she found out? 

And, perhaps most importantly, Amu had never known that it was Ikuto - _Ikuto!_ Of all people! - who had possessed the Key that matched her Lock. 

Despite herself, Amu found her lips twitching into a cheeky grin. That sneaky devil! He had kept his Key ( _and_ her Lock) under his captor’s nose for _years_ and yet still the Captain had not caught a whiff of it… Amu pictured his smirk; she imagined his chuckle; she recalled the way his eyes would every so often light up with mischief. And, last night, stood in the glow of the moonlight and innumerable stars, Ikuto had so gradually opened up to her. _Her!_

There was so much more to him that Amu didn’t know either. It was unsettling. It made her want to shift uncomfortably in her stuffy bed; made her want nothing more than to go back to that glorious night and stay by his side just a few minutes more - just to see if she could ease just that little bit closer; to see if he would allow her in just that _tiny_ bit more. He drew her further and further in, piquing her interest and her sympathy… 

She felt guilty now for assuming the worst of him when she’d woken up in her cabin that first fateful morning, over a month ago now. Although Amu knew deep down that, of course, she had every right to think such things back then. She was a hostage, after all. But, somehow, it just didn’t sit well with her anymore. 

_‘Ikuto…’_

Sapphire and cobalt sprung vivid in her mind. Amu drew the covers up to her burning cheeks and tried to breathe deeply. 

She’d never wanted to help someone more in all her life. But all she could do for him right now, she thought, was to keep this precious little locket safe and secure in her grasp. 

~.~.~

By noon the deck was roasting in the midday sun, yet all around the crew were still busy at work. The ship was buzzing like an oversized hive. To and fro and back and forth the men scampered and scurried about the deck, yelling, laughing, singing… Just your average day on the Shining Black. 

Kukai dropped down from the ratlines and waved away Daichi. The damned bird wouldn’t stop flapping about his shoulder, squawking and chirping in protest. _“Buddy, buddy - go on!_ Get out of it, go on!” 

Daichi let out something akin to an offended shriek before swooping off, finding the highest line he possibly could and perching atop it. He stared down defiantly and Kukai sighed. It was like the bird _knew_ he’d have to climb up there to get him back down. But, oh well, Kukai shrugged it off. 

Amu was sat against the bulwark, barely touching the mass of oilskin she was supposed to be sewing together, apparently deep in murky thoughts and miserable spirits. The pirate raised an eyebrow. Kukai didn't know what was going on, but for about a week now, something seemed to have gotten under the Princess’ skin. She still spoke when spoken to and eventually, if he could prod her hard enough, she still laughed with him and joked with him as ever before, but there was something different. Every so often he would catch sight of her, alone and silent, staring off into the distance, trudging about in her tasks like her mind was far, far away beyond the horizon. Only yesterday he had stopped her from walking blindly across an open hatchway in her daze! Kukai frowned. 

_‘Like hell I’m having this!’_ he thought. He sidled over to her, creeping up rather conspicuously (despite his best efforts) and casually sat back on his haunches at her side. Amu never so much as blinked at him. He was quiet for a few moments.

“So, Hinamori…” Kukai began fairly awkwardly, drawing out his words, counting the seconds until she responded. She didn’t. He sighed. “Amu?” Nothing. Kukai cast her a somewhat desperate look. _“Amu!_ Oi, come _on!_ Don’t make me look like an idiot here!”

He snapped his fingers before her face. Her lips twitched upwards a fraction. “You’re already an idiot, Kukai.” 

It was the sort of remark Amu would never have dared to make back home, but here she was thanked with a toothy grin of triumph; 

"A- _ha!_ See! That's the good ol' banter I like ta hear!" Kukai grinned upon seeing the faintest of smiles grace her features. "Now don't you go sitting here all depressed an’ stuff in front of _them-”_ (he pointed to a nearby pirate who consisted of more muscle than man) "-else that'll just make 'em happier!" And he paused to frown and comically squint over at the man, "That is… If any emotion can actually penetrate skin so thick…" 

Amu allowed herself a brief spell of laughter this time. Kukai beamed, so pleased with his own efforts that it only raised her spirits further. "Ah, Kukai," she began softly as it truly touched her to see the concern behind his cheery demeanour; "thank you - for being so good to me whilst I've been here. Thank you." 

At this Kukai's cheer vanished. "H-Hey," he started, uneasy; "what's makin' ya talk like that?" 

Amu’s eyes widened. “Oh, no!” the heiress interjected, giving him a reassuring smile. “Honestly, I just wanted to thank you for your concern, Kukai! Honestly, it’s nothing. I’m okay.” 

Kukai evidently wasn’t convinced. "Your Highness, you are obliged to tell me your troubles! Spill, woman!" 

And she laughed aloud, only stopping when she saw genuine bewilderment on the man's face. She was about to open her mouth to continue, but thought better of it. She stopped and shook her head and hauled herself up from the floor to continue working again before the Captain's henchmen saw her slacking. "I'm fine, really. Come on. I'm sure you have work to do!" 

Kukai just grumbled something under his breath, a dissatisfied expression on his tanned face. "Well sure," he mumbled half-heartedly; "but I sure as hell don't wanna." 

_"Kukai,"_ she scolded and the two of them, relieved to have broken the tension, wandered towards the hatchway in higher spirits than before. 

Flipping back the hatch, Kukai bowed in an exaggerated manner and motioned for Amu to enter first. Shaking her head, but amused, she did. Down below was far cooler than the steaming deck. Amu was particularly grateful for this as what followed was a long hour or so of fumbling and sorting through the majority of items that had been haphazardly chucked and abandoned three decks down in the hold of the ship. Empty pistols, tangled nets, knotted lines, barrels, cages, lanterns - the list went on and on until the hoard of clutter slowly dispersed around the borderlines of the galley. Strange how these men could be so particular about the state of their kitchen when all around them had descended into chaos, the Princess thought as she and Kukai scrabbled about in the dim light to find line and sheets fit for use. Some hours previously, there had been an incident involving a few select crewmates, the crow's nest and more than a few bottles of brandy. Daichi had probably been involved too, now she thought of it. But, anyway, line had been snapped, a sail had suffered and some improvised repairs were in order. Needless to say, the Shining Black might be missing a couple of crew members if anyone allowed the Captain to get too involved. 

And, of course, being the lowly new girl, Amu had been set to the task of wading through crap to fetch whatever they needed. But it wasn't all bad, she decided as she tossed aside an old-fashioned music box ( _'What use does a pirate even have for this?'_ she asked herself). It was a task that put her mind to work. It made her switch on - made her actively use up her senses as she went. It was a relief. She'd done very little that morning but wander, distant and distracted. She had been somewhat _distracted_ for the best part of a week now… 

At the very least, she thought, she had her beloved Humpty Lock back, safe and sound. Though it wouldn't be an easy thing to keep to herself, Amu quickly realised. She had gone through all manner of places in which to conceal it, but it turned out there were very little options. There was a space behind her bed, but it had rolled out during the night under the gentle rocking of the ship. There was a drawer beneath the writing desk in her cabin, but the moment she had opened it she'd discovered there was a massive chunk of panelling missing from the bottom. Hell, Amu wasn't even sure she deemed her cabin safe enough to hide the Locket in - not with the Captain so close by and his henchmen pacing up and down the corridor at all hours of the day. 

Currently, it was stowed safely away, as it had been all this time, wrapped up in a little scrap of linen she’d found and tucked in the bodice of her dress. It was nowhere near the same as the comfort of wearing it round her neck, but to have it resting so close to her heart brought her some solace as she wandered the deck of her captor’s vessel. Not to mention that she rested easier. For the past week she had finally earned the type blissful, restful sleep that she'd never have thought possible on this ship. 

And every night for a week she had been lulled to sleep by the notes in her head - notes that still lingered, still tugged at her heart… 

Feeling herself drift again, Amu smacked herself back into the present and dug into a pile of discarded rope nearby. She was getting far too distracted. Not just with the constant, niggling worry over hiding her Lock in plain sight. No, it wasn't just that anymore. She was sure it was _him_ too and, God, Amu hated it. She hated it so much because Ikuto confused her more than ever. Just the thought; just the memory of that young man; just the thought of his music and his matching Key and his eyes so riddled with starlight had her breath short, her heart thudding, beating loudly in her ears. And, if that wasn’t enough, she could barely stand beside him now without turning as pink as her hair. She had never felt so self-conscious in her own skin before. Calm, collected, heiress Amu was gone just like that - replaced by an awkward, fumbling, inwardly cringing mess. She winced in embarrassment as her mind recalled one particular moment that very morning. 

It had been just as she’d begun to debate over her own health (what with her burning cheeks and heavy pulse - she was sure it must have been another sailor’s ailment) when that all-familiar rapping at the door had signalled his presence - that knocking that had Amu’s heart heavy all over again at the thought of laying eyes upon the cause of her recent mental anguish. Jumping and hissing a foul word that she had learned from Kukai (really, who else?), she'd flung herself from the bed and searched frantically for her robe. For some reason that morning, the thought of Ikuto walking in on her whilst she still looked unkempt was enough to make her flustered all the more. But the robe was nowhere to be seen and he was calling her name from behind the door and, with no time to lose, she had for some _inexplicable_ reason decided that it would be perfectly acceptable to wrap her bedsheets bodily around her ruffled nightgown in an effort to look presentable. 

When Ikuto, a moment later, had strolled in with a bundle of tack in his hands he'd raised a brow to see her standing still as a statue by the foot of her bed, cocooned in at least three layers of bedding. Her wide eyes followed him - tense like a wild deer being stalked by a hunter, silent and unmoving. Amu’s skin had prickled under his gaze. Mercifully, he had been too dumbfounded to say anything. 

"Breakfast." he’d said simply, taken aback beneath her unceasing gaze and Amu _cringed_ because the awkwardness of that one, single word was so strong that she could practically feel it. 

Amu tried to mumble a thanks, but the words died upon her tongue. Ikuto stared back at her. She prayed that he would leave, now more than ever. Images flashed in her mind of gentle fingertips brushing down silky skin, tracing patterns down her calves, around her knees, beneath her thighs; the way he had tended to her sore scurvy-ridden skin… 

She was sure she’d been bright red, mentally screaming at herself, by the time Ikuto had made his leave, giving her one one last puzzled look. She'd found herself a moment later collapsed onto the bed, her head in her hands, wincing horribly. 

Back down in the dark of the hold, Amu groaned, running a hand over her face. "I've been thinking far too much," she mumbled; "if I'm so flustered by nothing at all." 

"Sorry?" 

It was only when Kukai spoke up that she remembered he was down there with her. She cursed. "Nothing, Kukai. Have you found anything?" 

"Hm, nah," he replied, tossing some sort of empty container aside and dusting off his grubby hands on his trousers. "S'not exactly the greatest of tasks, I'll say," he stated simply; "but at least we're outta the heat." 

Amu had to agree, she thought, shuffling over to unravel a knotted ball of twine that had caught her eye. "Here, this should do half the job." She commented and handed it over to the pirate beside her. 

"Hey… Amu…" Kukai began slowly and his tone was to earnest and unusual that she couldn’t help but pause completely; "you do realise that you can't carry on keepin' everythin' to yourself, right?" 

Amu was speechless for a moment. She raised an eyebrow at him, taken by the sudden swerve in conversation. "I'm sorry?" 

Kukai shrugged. "It don't take a genius, Hinamori, to see that you’re more than preoccupied with somethin' or other. And it ain't reassuring, I can tell ya. You've taken everythin' this ship's thrown your way so far." He waved a hand vaguely in a gesture that seemed to encompass the entire frigate. _That_ was true at least, Amu thought. Kukai heaved a mighty sigh and lowered his voice as if others might be listening, creeping in the shadows. "But, obviously, I don't know whatever it is that the Cap'n or his thugs've got against ya, so…" 

Amu had to pause for a moment. She felt the space beneath her bodice where there was still concealed her Humpty Lock, constant and comforting against her skin, and she almost felt guilty for not confiding in such an honest man. 

“Kukai," the Princess whispered, truly touched at such earnest words. "Kukai, there's nothing to worry about." 

He just stared at her disbelievingly. 

"Honestly, I swear!" She smiled, albeit forcefully. "I'm fine." 

A moment of quiet passed before the pirate let out a loud groan. "Aah, Hinamori, you're too good a liar!" He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and shook his head. "But ya know I trust you, so… Ah, _whatever!_ Just don't come runnin' to me when it all falls apart!" 

Amused, Amu chuckled as she waded through the rubbish. "Oh, but you know that you wouldn't be able to refuse!" she added jokingly. "You'd feel far too guilty!" 

In the background, Kukai groaned again. "It's damn well _true!_ God damn it," 

"But, seriously though," the Princess began, looking back at her friend over her shoulder and grinning; "thank-" 

_BANG!_

Amu was cut off almost instantly, she and Kukai just about jumping out of their skins. A sudden burst rent the air as, somewhere above, a hatchway was thrown open. All of a sudden the air was thick with tension; boots were pounding relentlessly upon the planks; men were yelling; whistles were sounding - frantic and shrill on Amu’s ears. She whirled around at the pirate beside her. 

“What does _that_ mean?” 

Kukai was struck dumb. He was about to shrug, too taken for words, when a fellow crew member appeared on the companionway, his face ashen, eyes wide and alight with terror. The atmosphere completely changed. 

The man choked; 

_"Up-Up on deck! They're here!”_

Kukai frowned. “Oi, _who’s-?”_

_“They're HERE!"_

And, with that, he turned and scrambled back up the steps, tripping over his own two feet, leaving Kukai and Amu stood in the dark, confused and cautious. They abandoned their task, both scrambling at once to follow the man back up to the deck. When they met the bright light of day, they were greeted by the most unbelievable commotion that Amu had ever seen about the Shining Black. Men were racing to the ratlines, to billow out the sails in a way that Amu had only ever witnessed once before - once when Tadase had allowed her to oversee a display of naval practice just off the coast of Seiyo. At that thought, her heart faltered. It hadn’t been any naval practice. It had been _evasion_ practice. 

Something was coming. 

The crew were fuelled by fear. Some were muttering foul curses, others proclaiming terrified omens of doom and death. It was only a moment later when, through the glare of sudden light and the dizzying motion of frantic men fleeing for dear life, they heard a yell. One of the pirates was perched in the crow's nest, pointing to one side and hollering down until his voice grew hoarse; 

_"Port! Straight to port!"_

Heads that hadn't done so already turned left. 

"What?" Amu tried to shield her eyes from the sun with one hand in a vain attempt to see. "What am I looking at?" 

But, beside her, Kukai was mesmerised. "Oh, you're _joking?"_ he whispered as one in awe. "We haven't come across them in _months!"_

"What?" She glanced back at him, frowning. "Who?" She received no reply. And that only worried her more. "Kukai..?" 

But he either could not or _would_ not speak and, in a second, his expression mirrored that of the frightened pirate who had yelled down at them in the hold. Amu's pulse raced in anticipation. 

_"WHAT’S GOING ON?"_

The booming voice of the Captain suddenly pierced through the chaos below and Amu turned in time to see him march down the steps to meet his crew. "What is this? _Ikuto?"_

From her position on the far side of the ship, the Princess could just about make out the tall, slender figure of the violinist step out from the crowd and, in a way, she was almost grateful for the confusion all around them. It made her anxious. And anxious meant that her body was too preoccupied to react to the sight of him. 

Amu couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she watched closely. Ikuto spoke quickly and proffered a spyglass to his Captain which the man wrenched from his grasp and lifted to his eye. Amu followed his gaze... And that's when she saw it. The blot on the edge of the horizon; the giant behemoth against the sun; the terror of all sailors on unfamiliar tides. 

"They're here… _They've found us…"_ Kukai faintly whispered beside her, his voice but a breath on the wind. _"The Dark Fortune found us."_

It didn’t matter that Amu wanted to interrogate him at that very moment because she didn’t have time. Before her mind could even catch up to what was happening around her, the Captain’s voice met her ears - frantic and desperate. 

_"Get her! Get Her Highness away from here! They mustn't see her! Quickly now, you blithering fools!"_ the Captain yelled in the background, but he was distant and she was much too busy in her reverie to pay attention. Amu’s eyes were set firmly on the line of the sea. 

It was strange. Eerie. It moved sluggishly towards them; its sails flowing like water in the wind. It blocked out the glare of the sun upon the water. It cast a shadow blacker than black in its wake. It had fear clawing at the hearts of every man aboard their own dear frigate - had them choking and gasping like men drowned of air beneath the depths… But it was familiar in some strange sort of way. It took the Princess back to her room in the Palace - back to her fairy tales and bedtime stories; back to the big book of age-old legends that her father used to read in the library by the fire. Amu remembered those stories now. She remembered the maidens and the heroes; the magic and wonder; the monsters and dragons that lurked within its pages, leaping out, unsuspecting… And she remembered the phantom ships that cruised these lawless waters.

A philosopher once spoke of a giant creature that rose from the sea - magnificent; terrible; that damned all souls that crossed its path to wander the ocean forevermore, bound by the trail of its wake; the darkness of its shadow; the low growl that echoed through the deep as the groans of all the unfortunate men - good and bad alike - who settled on the seabed amongst broken wrecks and shattered shells, amidst the hauntings of their dreadful fates. But whilst she had marvelled at these maritime tales in the comfort of her regal chambers, real men had tossed and turned on stormy seas and feared the beast that scuttled along the deep and now, as the leviathan drew closer and rose from the waters so spectacular, yet otherworldly, as if hoisting itself bodily from the very sea itself, she felt like she had just been thrust into reality to finally confront that which resembled the horror of all seagoing men. 

Yet before she could take the time to feel any semblance of fear or stare in wonder as the great ship made the move to show its broadside, Amu found herself roughly hauled up in the arms of two men so suddenly that she wasn't even fast enough to comment. They whisked her off, pushing through the crowd, rushing down below, through the companionway and down through the dim light all the way to the galley, far below the light of day. And, although the Princess protested and squirmed and writhed about in their grasp, demanding an explanation, they would not breathe a word. One let go eventually and from behind a nearby bulkhead rolled out a large barrel; empty and, she grimly noted, just about large enough to hide a single body. 

The pirate stood it up and placed it among the many others, full of fruits and other necessities, gathered in a corner. He spoke with a hushed sense of urgency, as if he were afraid that he would not have the breath to finish; 

_"Just keep your head down 'til someone comes for you!"_

And, with that, the two set to the task of stuffing the startled and flustered Princess within the hollow space of the empty barrel. It was a tough squeeze, but they managed in the end (with much effort and dark oaths on the Princess’ part) and so Amu sat painfully on her lower back, nestled in a cushion made of the folds of her skirts and her knees tucked tightly to her chest, scowling up at the ruffians with all the dignity she could muster. 

"My apologies, Your Highness," said the second pirate, looking regretful; "we'll fish you out when the Cap'n calls." 

But, before she could even scream, they secured the lid above her head and the light of the world was lost to the darkness. 

~.~.~

Out on the deck, the crew shivered despite the warmth of the midday sun. Stricken with fear, faces pale and breathing shallow, even Kazuomi could not say that he blamed them. 

He cast a glance over his shoulder and saw the two young men scrambling up from the depths of the ship and onto the upper deck. He allowed himself to breathe a tiny breath of relief, for, as bleak as the situation may have seemed, at least Her Highness was tucked safely away far beneath their feet where, hopefully, she would not be found... Unless drastic measures were taken by their foes. 

_No._ They would have to get through _him_ first, Captain Ichinomiya thought. He would not allow them to pillage his dear craft, however forceful they may be. 

But luck was on his side. Kazuomi was pleased to note that they would not have noticed Amu on the deck. They had been too far away, it seemed, and the monster’s crew had been too busy scurrying up the ratlines like spiders in an intricate web. But now they had stopped and eased their way back down to the relative safety of the deck. The ship was but metres away as she came up, fully showing them her broadside, her paint black, portholes gleaming gold. 

All was quiet as the two ships stood still upon the water, side-by-side. The crew of the Shining Black watched anxiously, peering up at the other ship's masts - tall and proud, majestic, reaching so high above their own. They were dwarfed by the leviathan, dwelling in its shadow, and, in every man's chest, their hearts stopped. 

A thudding drew them from their trance - a heavy, foreboding _‘thud, thud, thud!’_

The planks shuddered dangerously. The breeze grew cold. A single figure emerged from the dense crowd on the deck of the leviathan, as if emerging from a grim fog, and strode confidently over the border of his own little realm, daring to march onto the deck of the Shining Black as if it were his own. 

The pirate whose true name remained unknown - whose ship sailed like a shadow across the sea - stepped onto their vessel and rendered it deadly silent. He tipped back his ragged hat. His eyes were icy in the daylight, his scarred skin rough, masked by a wiry grey beard. When he spoke, his voice was low and gruff and the crew shivered. 

"Ichinomiya." 

And Kazuomi replied in a voice just as grave; 

"Fortune." 

~.~.~


	20. Twenty

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

“Ichinomiya.” 

“Fortune.” 

_Fortune..._ It was like the whistle of the wind; like the wails of tormented souls. It cast blackness across the deck of the ship and sent dread to pool in the pit of every man's stomach as they watched in anticipation. His bulk overshadowed them, grounded them, and suddenly they all paled, insignificant in comparison to this man who waltzed over onto their ship and marched up to their Captain with all the terrifying authority and purpose that they would have expected from Kazuomi himself. Their Captain seemed to shrink - a mere common sailor in comparison. And for Kazuomi to appear so small… Well, it took a man of gigantic proportions. 

"Well, Kazuomi," Fortune began and his voice was hoarse; tones sprinkled with the accent of a common sailor, yet it was as dangerous as any they’d ever heard. "How’re we about this fine day?"

Kazuomi merely raised an eyebrow. Fortune let out what might have been a scoff and, just as quickly, he changed - his voice akin to a growling beast, so low and rumbling that it could have put Ichinomiya's to shame. He cast his eyes about the ship and the crew and his own sniggering lot before staring pointedly at the Captain before him. He drew out a low hum in thought; 

"I hear you an' your crew have had a successful plunder." 

There was an accusation there as plain as day - so glaring and pressing that the men of the Shining Black suddenly felt suffocated, trapped, as if the weight of the sea itself had fallen upon them under Fortune's gaze. But Kazuomi barely even blinked. He watched intently, cold eyes following the rival pirate as he paced forwards, brushing past him, casting an eye over the aftercastle and all its fine details. Behind him, Fortune’s crew - rough and ragged, yet in finer clothes than all his men combined - were circling like vultures, pooling onto the deck of his ship, spreading like a plague. He would order the deck be scrubbed thrice after their dirty boots were done with it. 

“Some provisions, aye. And yourself?” Kazuomi said after a moment. How he managed to keep his tone so light and his tongue so cautious, none would ever know. "Quite the slip-up you gave us this time." he commented, nodding at the galleon that bobbed on waters suddenly rougher than before. 

Fortune laughed gruffly in response, but didn't answer. Kazuomi was a slimy sort of man, after all - sneaky and slippery and tough to outwit. But Fortune had ferocity. Fortune had the will to weather all of his tiresome little games; to withstand the chase until his opponent was too tired to carry on, weak and begging at his feet. It was strange; an old man he was with his wiry beard and leathery, sun-baked skin riddled with wrinkles. It seemed as though he should have been frail and old and weak, yet beneath his coat and hat there still hid a strong physique, a sturdy build and a temper to match. Kazuomi had seen the kind of punch he could throw alone and most of the crew had a rough idea, hearing of the nautical tales that were told of his notorious deeds in sea warfare. 

And many tales indeed had been told of this man before them. Many rumours reached them, travelling on the sea breeze, passing across the deck as hushed whispers between men - some entirely plausible, some wildly outrageous, but still they all instilled that sense of terror in their hearts that chilled them to the very bone as they gazed upon this fearsome man. Fortune was as close to a living legend as any man could get - closer even than the Shining Black itself. No, the Shining Black’s tales were like fairy stories in comparison. Myth-like and mysterious they might have been, but they utterly paled beside those tales of naval warfare and sea serpents and secret, pirate utopias that clung to Fortune’s reputation. He had once taken on three of Seiyo’s finest men-of-war with but a single sloop in his youth, they said. His ship was once an ancient pirate king’s, they said. He had been to the very depths of the ocean - to the ends of the earth and back! - so it was told, and so it was no surprise that no soul yet had ever dared to mess openly with the man who was said to be the sea itself in mortal form. 

Kazuomi coughed loudly, drawing attention back to the situation at hand. Under the scrutinising gaze of his foe, he sighed, sounding almost disappointed. "I would not have expected you to venture this far, Fortune, just to ride my tail in the hopes of invoking some sort of… _intimidation._ " 

In truth, Fortune had never had to go out of his way to intimidate anyone. Just to be within sight of him felt deadly enough, yet Fortune let out a harsh bark of laughter and whirled on him; 

"An' fer _what?"_ was the reply. "A bunch o' tack and sail sheets? Some gunpowder? Liquor? Is that what's on yer mind?" And he chuckled to himself, amused at something which Kazuomi’s crew could not quite grasp. Yet, further up on deck, Kazuomi looked rigid as stone, his shoulders squared as if bracing himself for some fierce tide. 

Currently, the dark Captain still plodded about the deck. He eyed the crew - locked his gaze on each and every one of them, even if only for the briefest of seconds, and, in a moment, he had successfully spooked half the men on board. They edged away warily; some clawing to the bulwarks like rats in cages. His eyes lit up in a sort of sick satisfaction. 

"Fine set o’ men…" Fortune said, as if to distract from the previous topic of conversation, sweeping his dark eyes one last time over the pirates huddled at the side of the ship. "Some new recruits, I s'pose?" he added and there was such a knowing glint in his eyes that Kazuomi had begun to sweat beneath his gigantic hat, his jaw set so hard and his muscles so tense that it looked doubtful he'd ever relax again. He swallowed with difficulty. 

"Some." The Shining Black's own Captain responded simply. “Always looking for an extra set of hands to steal.” 

His rival smirked fiendishly. There was a moment of silence that settled more heavily than before. Those few seconds in which the two Captains were locked in time, glaring at each other, were utterly agonizing until, finally, Fortune strode over. He leaned in. His eyes ablaze, he uttered, only low enough for him to hear; 

“You think I haven't heard? You thought I wouldn’t _suspect?”_ He spat. "Where is Her Royal Highness, Ichinomiya?" 

Time stopped for Kazuomi. His spirit faltered. But he had to remain cool. In the background, he noticed that his crew were relatively the same as before. Good. None of them had heard. But, despite the sudden tightness that had gripped at his chest, time was still ticking; Fortune was still scrutinising him; still waiting. The accusing tone, the piercing gaze… He hoped the other Captain would not notice him sweat because he just _couldn't believe it._ News travelled fast as it was - the entire sea would have heard of Her Highness' disappearance by now, he had no doubt, but… 

“I should have known.” he said slowly, allowing himself a sigh. "Why else would you come for me now, eh?" 

It wasn't a question and Fortune's mouth twitched, still pulled into that hideous thing he called a sadistic grin. 

“You know me, Kazuomi,” he replied, thankfully lowering his voice to keep their conversation private. Whispers sounded behind from the group of stunned sailors, but neither of them heard it, both too engrossed in each other's words to notice. Fortune continued over the distant murmurs; "I gotta keep me eyes fixed on this here ship o' yours. You want the plunder, I _know_ … But, see… What you've gotta _understand_ is that, well… The plunder's not _yours_. Not if you ain’t willin’ to play fair after all this time. An' you'd be a fool, _Kazuomi_ , to believe that you could've hidden such a thing from _me._ "

The allegation was plain and simple, but Kazuomi held his ground. 

_"You_ are a fool, Fortune." The Captain finally said. "You are a fool and you are _desperate_ to even begin to think of accusing me of taking this plunder on my own." 

"Don't _test_ me, Ichinomiya!" he snarled, backing away and hissing like an animal circling its prey; "I know what a filthy li'l weasel y'are! I _know_ you want that prize as much as I an' I know you were given the perfect chance! A fisherman sees a dark vessel without a name on 'er transom in the mainland waters whilst he's reelin' in his line an' you expect me to believe that Her Highness was intercepted by _highway men?"_ \- and he spat onto the planks of the deck - "You expect me to believe that yer bein' in the vicinity is nothin' more than a _coincidence?_ Now you listen ‘ere - you've got a goal, as have I, you remember, don't you? You remember that it ain't all plain sailin' when someone around here shares a common goal - you hear me now, Kazuomi? You understand what'll come o' you if you go on bumpin’ into these little 'coincidences'?" He let the question hang a moment before continuing; "I'll see you _rot_ \- _that's_ what I'll see! I'll see you a-swingin' from those gallows outside o' Royal Court and I'll see you and all yer crew left to feed the crows in the courtyard - every last one of them!" 

"But," Kazuomi swallowed, steadier this time; "you also understand, my good man, that you are, of course, on the wrong side of the law to be dealing judgement unto me." 

The crew as one flinched as a fire flared in Fortune's eyes. Vessels sprung to the surface of his temples… But, to their surprise, he did not roar or growl nor even glare at their own Captain. Fortune turned, having apparently had enough Kazuomi’s little game of semantics and waved an arm at his men. 

_"Search the ship!"_

At once they sprang into action, the last few handfuls of them crossing the border between the two vessels, infiltrating the space of the Shining Black like insects marching en masse as one dark swarm. The crew of the Shining Black was outnumbered by at least five to one. They couldn’t even imagine how confined their quarters on the Dark Fortune must have been, but there was no time to think about such trivial things. Several members of the crew glanced sideways at one another when the invaders' backs were turned, exchanging nervous looks as they recalled their Captain's rush to get Princess Hinamori to a safe hiding place. Uncertainty was etched upon their faces as they wondered; 

_What would Fortune do if she were found? Where did they hide her? What would become of_ them?

Kazuomi roughly shoved past two crew members who had been much less subtle in their anxious expressions and the majority of his group received the message, dropping their gazes to the floor and avoiding any silent communication. His eyes landed on Ikuto, who was stood sentinel beside the hatchway that led to the lower decks, his body rigid. Kazuomi gave him the slightest of nods. Ikuto looked torn for a moment, but he knew better than to disobey. He shifted somewhat reluctantly and watched helplessly as three of Fortune’s men scurried past him and down into the decks below. Thankfully, Fortune did not appear to notice, too busy was he smirking as he watched his lads overcome the frigate. 

In a matter of moments their ship was truly overrun. Fortune’s crew stomped up and down the gangway, down the hatchways; they scuffed about in the dark down below and flung open the cabin doors in the stern. The planks jumped under every thunderous boot and faint clashes were heard underfoot as they tore all in their path apart. For a moment, there was a sudden cry of excitement from one of the cabins, but grumbling soon followed as the search party realised that they had not found their prize - the pink-haired, golden-eyed Amu Hinamori. Instead they reemerged into the daylight, dragging with them none other than Utau, her face as white as a sheet and her pigtails in complete disarray. They forced her down to join the rest of her crew, jabbing a pistol in her back, urged on by some ruffian who looked thoroughly disgruntled at not having found the Princess. 

"Cap'n," a lanky, dark-haired sailor who could have probably still passed as a child scuttled up to Fortune; "we've searched each deck," he glanced back to the group of pirates just then reemerging from the hatch; "Cap'n, there's no sign of Her Highness aboard this ship." 

And, just like that, a soundless, but collective breath was released from just about every member of the Shining Black. A blood vessel in Fortune's temples twitched. His burning gaze swept over the frigate once more. 

"You’d better be positive about that, boy." He eventually seethed. 

"Y-Yes, Cap'n," the boys head dropped in shame. 

"There are two doors locked up over here, Captain," another shouted from the companionway; "but we can't hear no signs of no one inside. We could bash ‘em in if ya like?" 

Fortune thought for a moment. Kazuomi, suddenly feeling very confident, if not a little astonished that they had not found any sign of the Princess aboard, chuckled. “Now, now, boy,” he said, feigning amusement; “no need to be damaging my dear ship - ask and you shall receive!” And he clicked his fingers in Ikuto’s direction. “Ikuto, open up the cabins for our guests here. That’s a good boy.” 

Ikuto was halfway through rummaging about for the loop of keys in his pocket when Fortune’s harsh voice cut in. 

"No." he said, looking as if he'd tasted something sour - his lips pursed tightly together. "There'll be no need for that." He clumped across the deck, past Captain Ichinomiya and onto the gangplank, idly pacing back towards his own ship. "I wouldn't pick our friend Kazuomi here to hide her in plain sight. Besides… We’ll be back.” He cast back a stony look, a shadow overcoming his weathered face. “Come on, lads. Let's be goin'." 

And that was that. Colour returned to Kazuomi's face as the last of the Dark Fortune's crew climbed from his ship and began to disappear one by one onto their own God-forsaken galleon. The Shining Black was quiet as they prepared to set sail - not a single man daring to move, nor so much as daring to _breathe_ openly whilst their enemy still lay so clearly in sight. Eventually, as if by the grace of whatever deity still existed in this world, the wind blew suddenly as if to hurry along their departure. Fortune, feeling the ship pick up speed, leant over the rail of the poop deck and called out, grave and ominous, one final warning; 

"I'll be seein' you, Ichinomiya - you mark those words o' mine... _I'll be seein' you..."_

And, with that, he waved his hand in a final parting and kept it raised there until, at last, the Dark Fortune became no more than a speck on the horizon and sank, seemingly melting back into the dark depths of the sea and out of sight. 

~.~.~

No man alive aboard the Shining Black had ever seen their Captain sweat, but everyone was truly astonished to watch as Kazuomi so openly removed his hat and began to dab away at his face with a silken handkerchief. Not that a single one of them blamed him. In fact, several of them collapsed against the bulwark or fell back against the masts, laughing aloud in sheer relief as the air cleared and the danger passed. A new breeze blew from the west. It seemed as though all fear was swept away, cast out to sea and beyond the blue horizon. 

"Lord Almighty," their Captain said aloud, not caring whether anyone could hear it, for he knew that they were all just as skittish at the mere _mention_ of the notorious Dark Fortune as he was. "Luck, it seems, was on our side," he continued, stuffing the handkerchief away and turning back to his crew to whom he rather uncharacteristically sighed, breathless; "Get back to work…” 

The command, for once, lacked all bite, but they knew better than to argue. Slowly, each man shifted from his position and went back to half-heartedly picking up their unfinished tasks. Lookouts perched up above deck, eyeing the horizon warily as if the shadowy galleon might miraculously reappear and several of the younger crew mates, still rather spooked after the whole ordeal, merely perched upon the gunwale, murmuring in hushed voices amongst themselves, idly trying to look as though they were busy cleaning. A group of men quickly banded together and set about preparing the sails for a swift getaway. 

As the crowd dispersed, Ikuto's eyes searched hurriedly amongst the crowd, desperate and wide, searching for blonde and violet. He cursed under his breath, wishing that they’d had some time - any time at all! - in which to warn her of their enemy’s visit before she had been dragged, stunned and shaking, from her only refuge aboard this ship… 

He eventually saw her, stood stock still above the companionway, but, as soon as he made a move to go and meet her, she was gone. Utau was but a blur as she retreated, slamming the doors behind her. Too late. Ikuto could have bent the iron keys in his grasp in pure, unbridled fury. He would have to wait. She would want to be left alone a while before he invaded her personal bubble. Utau would want her time alone to re-establish whatever safety her cabin still provided before she allowed anybody in. He would be helpless to comfort her until then - no matter how badly his heart cried out at him; no matter how strong the desire to drag his sister into his arms, to fuss over her, to console her, to hide her from the world and keep her out of reach of Kazuomi or Fortune or any other who dared lay a finger on her… 

But that would only hinder her recovery, Ikuto thought. She was probably barricaded in her cabin at that very moment. Utau wouldn’t be ready to see him until time had passed. Instead Ikuto stayed behind. Kazuomi was to his right. 

"How did they find us?" Normally, Ikuto might not have spoken, but, then again, this was not a normal situation. His stepfather seemed to appreciate this, for he didn’t protest. 

"We’ve been heading east," Kazuomi began, his words slow and steady as he worked through the puzzle in his brain; "Fortune has many contacts eastwards, far into the Orient, but still… To find a single ship in an entire sea…" 

A moment passed as he mulled this over. Ikuto felt as though any opportunity to speak freely before his stepfather had passed. He waited in silence. Eventually, Kazuomi shook his head. A _'tch'_ left his lips, his usual stony façade hardening as he stewed over his close encounter with his rival. He strode towards the bulwark and took a moment to observe his men at work. 

"Retrieve Her Highness," he ordered, nodding in the direction of the two who had been sent to conceal her earlier that day. The two nodded obediently with cries of _“Yes, sir!”_ , abandoning their position beside the capstan, and disappeared into the crowd. "And have her locked in her cabin for the remainder of the day, Ikuto." the Captain went on, looking thoroughly unnerved. “We don’t want any… _Unexpected_ encounters again today…” 

Ikuto nodded silently and watched as Kazuomi stared uneasily into the distance, mopping the last beads of sweat from his forehead in the midday heat. 

~.~.~

Amu’s glare could have struck a man dead on the spot as the lid of her barrel was slid out of place. The two sheepish pirate’s faces stared down guiltily at her, tentatively placing the top aside and offering their hands to haul her out. 

“Sorry ‘bout that, Your Highness,” the first said reluctantly, reaching in as if she would bite his hand off. “Captain’s orders, y’see?” 

Amu just glowered up at them. He quailed beneath her gaze. 

And damn right they _should_ look guilty too, Amu thought! What a way to manhandle a lady! And without so much as a word of warning! She grumbled to herself as she tried to manoeuvre her stiff joints beneath her. It had been hellish trapped in there - hot and humid and reeking of old apples. When the heavy bootsteps had reached the level of the galley, Amu had shuddered and shivered in fear, slipping in her awkward confinement, for when she heard the crashing all about her and the gruff voices of seamen she did not recognise she knew that something had gone disastrously wrong. She thought back to the mystery ship that loomed so ominously on the horizon. When she realised that they had boarded she had broken out in a cold sweat. Had they taken the ship, she’d wondered? Had they come aboard to plunder the Shining Black and rifle through the goods before blowing it to smithereens and watching it sink into the depths as they laughed, safely drifting away on their own seaworthy vessel? For a moment she had wondered if they had been some privateer crew or even an old navy ship come to search for her and, just perhaps, that had been the cause of Captain Ichinomiya's rush to hide her. 

And so she had sat there holding her breath, her blood pounding in her ears, trying with all her might not to gasp aloud as she heard their thunderous steps and harsh growls and felt the blow of every barrel they booted out of their path. They had crashed through the galley like a hurricane, throwing aside boxes and slamming open cabinets - even stomping to check for loose planks, lifting them up and peering beneath as if they expected anyone to be cowering underneath. And, in her terror, Amu had sought the only thing that could bring her comfort. Awkwardly, she dove a hand into the front of her bodice and reached for her Lock. Even through its wrappings, she could feel its weight. It was grounding and welcoming and soon enough the worst of her fear left her. She held it to her chest, firm between her fingers, and waited. 

But no, after some time all fell quiet. The danger had apparently passed and she, miraculously, had gone undetected - the foreign pirates having gone through about five full barrels before realising that most were full of stock and there was really nothing more to see. Whilst they had ravaged half of the galley so far, their patience, it seemed, was wearing thin. They had been wrong, of course. They'd even kicked at the barrels they couldn't be bothered to open and Amu had been _terrified_ that they would notice as her forehead smacked into the side of the wood. Thankfully though they had all dismissed the galley and gone on their merry way and Amu was truly relieved even as she stared daggers up at the young man who still proffered one dusty hand down to her. 

"We're-We're terribly sorry, Your Highness!" he insisted, quite unsuccessfully. "All for Your Highness' safety though, you understand?" 

Amu rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she muttered, unconvinced; “I’m _sure_ it was...” But, aching from head to toe by now, Amu huffed, giving in and grasping at the pirate to lift herself up. Hurriedly, she slipped the Lock beneath the hem of her sleeve, disguising the movement as best she could as she folded her arms across her chest. It rested precariously, frighteningly insecure for her liking, but she didn’t think they had noticed. She would conceal it more thoroughly in privacy. 

"The danger has passed now, Your Highness," the second pirate began and he reached in to take her by the arm; "an' even so, the Captain wants you-" 

_“Ouch-!”_

_“Y-Your Highness!”_

_“Don’t ‘Your Highness’ me!”_ Amu cried, wobbling precariously, halfway out of her barrel. Getting _out_ was proving to be more difficult than getting in. With every move - every little, tiny shift - the thing would threaten to tip, throwing her bodily onto the floor. She stilled, terrified. _“Watch what you’re doing!”_

“I-I’m sorry!” 

Amu growled, gripping the pirate before her in a death lock. She was trying to ease herself gently out; trying not to trip over the hem of her skirt; attempting to ever-so gently shift her leg up far enough to get a foot over the side until- 

_“H-Hey don’t let go of me!”_

“Just let us do the work, Your Highness-!” 

“Hold onto me-!” 

_“H-H-HEY-!”_

A tremendous _‘thud!’_ resounded throughout the dim galley as the Princess unceremoniously hit the floor, the barrel clattering over onto the planks behind her. Amu winced, clutching whichever shoulder had taken the brunt of her fall. She twisted, glancing over her shoulder, and shot the two pirates the most dangerous look she could muster. 

“If I ever get out of this,” Amu muttered; “I will have you boys hung.” The threat was plain, echoing loud and clear about the room, dripping with disdain. “Well?” she huffed. “Aren’t you going to help me up?” 

But the pirates did not. Nor did either of them so much as _blink_ at the Princess they’d just accidently thrown to the floor. Irritation flaring, Amu raised her eyebrow; opened her mouth to unleash a torrent of abuse… 

But then the second pirate gasped aloud, apparently finding his breath again. Wordlessly, he knelt beside her. Their mouths were hung agape. She followed their gaze. 

The end of a fine chain dangled from beneath her sleeve - gold stark against pale blue. Amu froze. Her blood ran cold. Her body felt numb against the floor. Heart sinking, Amu cursed herself. In her headfirst tumble to the ground, she had barely noticed... 

The pirate gripped it between his dirty fingers and tugged. 

And so her hidden package hit the floor with a deafening _‘thunk!’_ and the bright crystals of the Humpty Lock shone on the deck beside her, gleaming, shimmering bright in the lantern light like a beacon in the darkness. 

~.~.~

_"WE HAVE IT!"_

The pirate’s cries rang loud and clear above the clamour of the deck, like a shot in the air. The hatchway flew open, rebounding off the planks with a clang and rendering the ship silent. Heads turned, whispers ceased. Panting and breathless, the Princess was hauled bodily into view and up onto her feet. The two pirates had her hands at her back, clenched together in an iron grip she could not shift. 

_"Captain!"_ the pirate yelled and he winced as Amu’s elbow met his gut, yet he still did not let go of her. Amu was thrashing wildly in resistance, but it was all for naught. Before she could inflict further harm upon him, he had the Captain’s attention. In that moment, Amu knew she was doomed. " _Captain Ichinomiya!"_

Any man on-deck who had not already been overcome with curiosity turned to watch as they dragged Amu aft, still struggling in their grasp. 

"She has it! Her Highness – _she has it!"_

Kazuomi, from his vantage point on the upper-levels, turned slowly, frowning in confusion. He opened his mouth, his brows furrowed, looking ready to unleash a tirade of condescending remarks towards such a rowdy crewmate- 

But then, before he could speak, the pirate raised his fist. 

The Humpty Lock glinted brilliantly in the sunlight - rebounding the rays so that they were cast brilliantly up into the sky and into the faces of many stunned pirates up above on the ratlines. All around the crew of the Shining Black paused to stare in wonder, their faces alight with awe as they looked for the first time upon the prize that they had sought for their Captain for so, _so_ long… Under their gaze, Amu finally ceased her resistance. Her heart dropped, for all was lost. The Lock dangled on its chain, lifted like a trophy, and the words died on the Captain’s lips. 

A wave of whispers burst out, like a tide washing over the Shining Black. Pirates gasped and openly prayed; others clapped and laughed out of shock; in the distance, Kukai’s astonished voice reached her ears; "Well… Well I'll be damned… _That's it..!"_

But Amu wasn’t paying attention. The Princess had never felt so useless in her life. She bit her lip as if to distract from the pain that welled up in her chest. 

_“I’m giving it back to you… If you can keep it safe.”_

_“Yes! Yes, yes, of course, Ikuto-!”_

Numbly, Amu cast a glance to her right. There he was. There was Ikuto, tense and pale, eyes dull with something she couldn’t place. Fear? Rage? No… No it wasn’t that. It was more like grief. And that was somehow worse than anything else. She looked away, but there was little time to dwell on it. Before her, Kazuomi gripped the railings to steady himself. His knuckles turned white; his gaze red. Confusion turned to amazement. 

_"The… The Humpty Lock…"_

And then amazement turned to rage. 

Amu did not hear him stride towards her for the pounding of her own heart. The crew appeared to forget the torment they felt at the voice of Fortune as their own Captain stormed through their midst. It was as if the seas themselves had parted - they ducked and dived and side-stepped quicker than anything Amu had ever seen to avoid his wrath as he marched through, down the companionway, across the deck, towards the Princess who, though released from the pirates' grip, stood frozen, shivering uselessly. His eyes bore through her like never before. The rage within consumed her like a fire from which she could not escape. A low growl left his lips and Amu swore she was going to faint. 

_"So you really DO have it!"_

~.~.~


	21. Twenty-one

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

_"So you really DO have it!"_

The cold _‘shing!’_ of metal rang through the air, shrill and sudden, as the Captain drew his mighty cutlass - silver speckled with a morbid, dull brown - advancing on her like an oncoming storm. Amu’s head began to spin. The two pirates at her back released her. Whether they felt that there would be no hope of escape or that she was so stricken with fear to do so, she could not tell. She stumbled on weak ankles, her back hitting the main-mast, and before she knew it Kazuomi was upon her, a strong, steely hand laying painful on her shoulder. He pinned her to the mast and the heat of his ire was beyond words. 

_“You…”_ his words were dark, oozing venom, laced with malice. “You- _Lying, deceitful little piece of royal FILTH!”_

The Captain’s jowls were trembling, but his aim was smooth and steady and merciless as he raised his rusty cutlass to her throat - it’s razor edge kissing her skin. Amu desperately gasped for air, open-mouthed like a terrified fish out of water. 

_“You had it all along!”_

Amu, unsure of what to do, swallowed nervously. Her throat grew dry and her skin burned beneath the weapon at her neck… And all of a sudden her mind went blank. This was it - the moment she had been dreading. Death awaited her, as ever on this infernal ship, ever-watchful and ever-present… And for the life of her she could comprehend it. Suddenly Amu was back on her very first day aboard the Shining Black - in an alien landscape, surrounded by ominous, faceless beasts. Not crewmembers; not sailors; not pitiful, overworked, unfortunate men who slaved to the bone, yet still laughed with her, tolerated her - even helped her. No. Now suddenly they seemed to change before her very eyes, for they saw her true colours as clear as crystal and suddenly Amu felt far more vulnerable beside them than she had in weeks. 

Amu was still despairing, resolving herself to the very worst, when the Captain spoke again; 

“My Princess,” the Captain continued, his voice dropping deadly low. Amu stayed stiff against the mast, skin prickling as though the poison in his tone had truly worked itself through her body. She braced herself for the next onslaught of abuse. “Do you recall? Don’t you remember what it was that I said to you some weeks back when you joined our humble little crew here?” he cast his eyes briefly over the deck of his ship. No one spoke. Amu swallowed. 

_“Lie_ to me,” Kazuomi said; “and I _end_ your life.” 

He slowly - oh-so _painstakingly slowly!_ \- tightened his grip on the blade, shifting it just so that Amu could catch a glimpse of her own, wide, terrified eyes in the gleam of the steel… But then he emitted something akin to a low growl and slid it away from Her Highness’ throat, twisting it in one smooth motion so that it came to lay above her heart. Amu breathed sharply. She could feel it shuddering over the rapid hammering inside her chest and, gazing into the man’s eyes, she realised that never before in her life had she felt such fear. Never had she been struck so close to the core. Not when she had first met the Captain of the Shining Black; not when she had first awoken in a strange new cabin aboard a strange new ship; nor even when she had heard first that first gunshot, smelt the first whiff of gunpowder, and been dragged from her carriage in the darkness on that fateful night that would find her wound up in a whole new, ruthless world of sea travel and tyranny. This wrath - _this_ heat that pooled in her captor’s eyes - was surely far greater than anything she’d ever known and she knew then that this fear was all of those moments combined and more. 

“Come clean, now, missy,” the Captain himself interrupted her train of thought; “before I grow impatient.” 

Her voice was small and weak in comparison. “C-Come clean?” 

He grasped tighter at her shoulder and leaned on his cutlass, digging into her breast. It was enough to scatter any coherent thought she might have had left, but Kazuomi was determined. He hissed; 

_“The Humpty Lock!_ How long has it been in your possession, Your _Highness?”_

Amu realised, with a cold trickle of sweat running uncomfortably down her back, that she would probably not live to see the mainland ever again. 

What more did she have to lose? 

And, under his unwavering gaze, she blurted out, unaware of herself; 

_“E-Eight years!”_

For once, Kazuomi was at a loss. “Eight years?” 

Amu nodded wordlessly. 

An eternity seemed to pass before he withdrew his weapon, but eventually he did, leisurely pacing away from her and sheathing it back into his belt. A wave of dizziness overcame the Princess. Amu breathed deeply, drunk on sheer relief, savouring every lungful of air she could, for she had no idea how long it would last. But, for now, she just marvelled at the wonder of still being _alive_ and breathing instead of speared through to the mast of the ship. 

This relief was short-lived. 

“It’s about time we had another talk.” Kazuomi said and it was clear that he would be leaving no room for argument. 

Amu complied, somewhat gladly, for she felt as though she might just have strength left within her to withstand the Captain in his cabin now that the initial terror was gone. As he turned his back to her, Amu took that opportunity to snatch the Humpty Lock from the grasp of the young pirate who had given her up. She shot him a stony look, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. 

The crowd (who had apparently been shuffling over to circle the mast like vultures, inching closer little by little to get a better view) parted immediately as the Captain retreated. Amu found herself meekly scampering behind, failing to match his magnificent strides. At some point, Kazuomi pushed her in the direction of Ikuto who had finally snapped out of his stupor, it seemed, and followed tamely like a little lost puppy. Amu looked desperately back at him as they neared the companionway, but his head was down, his gaze fixed firmly upon the floor. Amu’s heart sank in her chest. 

They walked in silence back to the Captain’s cabin, the dread increasing, weighing her further and further down with each and every step she took. 

~.~.~

Amu couldn’t resist - couldn’t find the _will_ to resist - as Kazuomi flung her onto the desk, sending bottles and scrolls and pieces of parchment flying onto the dusty floor. Her chin smacked against the hardwood; a candle was stabbing at her hip, crumbling beneath her weight, but she bore it all. 

It had been enough when he’d had his cutlass beneath her neck; when he’d glared at her, snarled at her; it had been clear enough when he grabbed her by the arm and shoved her into the dim gloom of his cabin, but this… 

_“GET UP!”_

Well, it was unpleasant, but it was no less than she’d expected. Amu complied, gritting her teeth and rising to her feet. She could see him over her shoulder, dark and thunderous - a black mass of unpredictable temper and malevolence - stood watching over her every move. Behind him, Ikuto stood in the shadow of the doorway, looking torn. For the first time since she had been found out, there was something stirring in his expression. It was not unlike fury, though small and pale in comparison to the inferno raging between them. But Amu hoped to God that he didn’t act on it. His jaw was still angry and purple; he was only just beginning to walk properly on his leg again… 

Amu glared at the Captain. What a _despicable,_ deplorable man. She’d be damned if Ikuto found himself injured and bleeding again all because she was too weak to hold her own. 

The Princess awkwardly turned to face Kazuomi, leaning heavily on the desk. She couldn’t tell if she’d just fallen badly or whether her ankle was truly twisted, but it didn’t matter. He was towering over her - but a few feet away from her now. 

_“You DECEIVE ME!”_

Amu saw the blow coming from a mile away, but this was her punishment, after all, and she would take whatever he threw at her. She almost felt like she deserved it as Kazuomi ruthlessly backhanded her across the cheek. She hissed, eyes watering at the stinging of her skin, but she said nothing. Amu bit her lip and stared back at him defiantly, her head held high with whatever royal dignity still remained intact. This was not a time for weakness, she told herself. Especially not with Ikuto’s gaze upon her - not when he still looked about ready to spring from the shadows. 

A faint _‘click!’_ drew Amu’s thoughts back to the man before her. Kazuomi’s fire was unfaltering, scalding… 

And then Amu caught a glimpse of silver - far brighter and purer than the shine of his cutlass had been. Kazuomi reached beneath beneath the folds of his dark coat, towards the holster at his belt… 

A wave of nausea passed over the Princess as she found herself once again staring down the barrel of the Captain’s flintlock pistol. 

_‘Ah,’_ Amu thought, frighteningly calm. _‘So this is it.’_ She numbly gripped the edge of the desk, her eyes never leaving that weapon she so dreaded. Many times she had thought about this day. Many nights she had lain awake and feared this very moment when all would be laid bare before the Captain’s eyes; when she would face her judgement; when all would be well and truly lost and all hope of returning safe and sound to her country had faded… 

For the first time, Amu chanced a direct look over at the pirate who stood in the background. Ikuto’s face was as pale as she’d ever seen it. She sent him the firmest look she could muster - a look that seemed to say _‘Don’t do it, Ikuto’_. Reluctantly, Ikuto stepped backwards, but his body remained riddled with tension. 

“I have been priming this pistol for this very day, Your Highness…” Kazuomi leered, oblivious to their silent exchange, and there was a twisted hint of glee in his tone that made Amu’s hair stand on end. He leant down and snarled; 

“Hand me the Humpty Lock, Princess, or else your head shall swing from the bowsprit.” 

Perhaps it was the pistol or the plain ferocity of his voice or maybe even it was the graphic images it cast in her mind, but, for whatever reason, Amu’s trembling fingers loosened of their own accord. She opened her fist, taking the chain in her other hand and, sure enough, there hung the very Lock that had landed her in all this mess. She held it up to the light. There was no use in pretending anymore - no use in fighting for it. Not when cornered like this; not when she’d already been found out… 

Amu could barely bring herself to look over at Ikuto as she waited for the Captain to take it. It gleamed gold in the light, glinting, flashing brilliantly in her eyes, swaying under her shaky grasp. It mocked her, scorning her for her pathetic mistake - for her utterly _useless_ attempt to hide it. _‘Stupid girl!’_ it seemed to spit. _‘Stupid girl!’_

To Amu’s sheer relief, the Captain lowered his pistol. The clear facets of the Humpty Lock shone piercing in the daylight between them. Kazuomi reached out for it then, his mouth hung open, his pistol forgotten, hung limp at his side. He wrapped his coarse fingers around the length of the chain - so inappropriately delicate and fine for his touch - taking his time as if it were just he and his treasure alone in this cabin. He took the Lock, stopping and watching it dangle in the light before cupping it in his hands, dropping his weapon on the desk with a dull thunk that had Amu and Ikuto jumping in fright. It seemed to Amu unlikely now that she would ever hold that pendant between her fingertips again as Kazuomi stared at his prize. He was totally and utterly captivated. The gleam of the metal; the delicate, woven filigree; purest of crystals... The sheer _majesty_... It drew him in like a maelstrom amid stormy waves; like a moth is attracted to the candlelight or how the birds that visit in summer are drawn to their homes in the autumn. He felt the gold against his callous skin; he felt the weight of it press down on him and he marvelled at its beauty, entranced. Something mad and wild passed over his face and Amu did not like it one bit. 

This was it. _This was it!_ This was what he had been looking for! For _all_ this time… And he had found it! He had it in his very hands, resting weighted and tangible in his palms and it was _wondrous!_ Wondrous! It still steadily shone after all these years, though it was undoubtedly old, like sunshine on the water; like lanterns in the night; like the moon amongst the stars! Never in all these years had the Captain been truly ready for this moment, he realised as his eyes clouded with lust. He could just taste victory on the tip of his tongue. Kazuomi could just taste it and it was like sweet wine on parched lips… He held in his hands this most crucial piece of the puzzle he had been working on for over a decade of his life. He was one step closer. He would reach the end of his journey before Fortune could even get a look-in… 

But his heart craved more. 

Kazuomi tore his eyes reluctantly away from his prize. He faced the sullen Princess he had dragged bodily into his cabin. 

Amu’s heart lurched as she watched him ball up his fist, the Lock disappearing from sight, feeling a heavy weight in the pit of her stomach. It was truly all she had of home save the clothes off her own back - her mother’s treasured pendant! The emblem of a hundred queens..! She could have cried - if not for the loss of her locket, but for the poor job she had done of protecting it - for the betrayal she felt she had dealt Ikuto’s already heavy soul… 

She felt shameful - shameful for letting it go on command; shameful for keeping it on her person all this time; shameful for being found so easily! What was she thinking? It would have been found sooner or later, Amu told herself and yet she still cursed under her breath. She had promised Ikuto to keep it safe and, for whatever reason, that felt like the greatest burden of guilt of all. She wondered if he would despise her for what she'd done. She stared firmly at the faded rug beneath her feet. 

“Now, Your Highness,” Kazuomi began, although he already sounded tired of her presence. It was as if the sight of her disgusted him; as if she were any lower than he - a notorious pirate Captain! He was probably counting the seconds until he could be rid of her; no doubt wishing to be shot of her already so that he could sit and brood over his winnings in private. “Anything else, now?” he asked, his voice a harsh bark. “Anything else you have _hidden_ from my sight?” 

Defeated, Amu shook her head numbly. “No.” she whispered. “There is nothing more, Captain. I can assure you.” 

“Might I remind you,” the Captain snapped, footsteps rattling the floorboards as he edged towards her; “that it would be truly unwise of you to continue withholding information from me, Princess. You have quite plainly shown me today that you are undoubtedly skilled at spinning filthy _lies_ about others. Oh, I’ve no doubt that you’ve enjoyed giving me the slip for so long…” He came to a pause at his chair behind the desk and Amu quickly backed away. The desk was a welcome barrier between them, but his fury was unpredictable and far-reaching and the pistol was still resting just within reach. 

Amu shook her head once more. “No, I _assure_ you, sir, there is nothing more for me to hide! I confess, I _have_ kept this Lock a secret from you…” Amu hadn’t - not for long, anyway - but the words came from her lips before she could stop herself. There was no time to question it; no time to correct herself. She went on; “I _have_ hidden it… But only because it holds such sentimental value to me,” she tried desperately not to let her expression fail her as she found herself once more attempting to pull the wool over her Captain’s eyes because what else had she to lose? He was already going to kill her one way or another. What more was one lie over another? “I swear - I swear on all things good and holy and the heavens themselves that I have nothing more to confess to you, Captain.” 

Some seconds of quiet followed as Kazuomi allowed this to sink in. For a moment, Amu feared that he had seen straight through her veil of deceit - that he was wise and learned enough now to pierce straight through and unto the true story beneath - but, just as she was dangerously close to letting her façade crumble, he straightened. 

“I have my prize…” Kazuomi mused, almost to himself. The shadows that always seemed to seep from his very soul appeared to ease a little, the darkness growing less. Outside, the midday sun was pouring in through the windows, trickling across the floorboards. For the first time that afternoon, Amu felt the warmth on her skin. 

“Very well.” the Captain said. 

Amu frowned. “You’re…” she licked her dry lips, her eyes darting briefly to the weapon he had abandoned. “Y-You’re not going to kill me..?” 

It was probably foolish of her to remind Kazuomi of his original intentions at that moment, but Amu was too stunned to care. She barely even felt the cold chill of his wry smirk as he leered;

“Oh… _Oh,_ Princess, I have plans for you yet.” (She shuddered, but he didn’t seem to notice.) “I shall take your word on the matter for now, Your Highness, though, of course, I see now that you’re a tricker little bird than I first thought.” And he leaned across his desk, planting his hands firmly on its surface. “But, remember this… I do not forget. I do not _forgive._ Should I catch you at your little tricks ever again, Princess, then I shall personally see to it that you no longer live to deceive another man. Do I make myself clear?” 

“Yes, Captain.” 

Kazuomi hummed, apparently in approval. Amu tried not to whimper at the thought of what revenge the man might have been cooking up in his foul mind at that very moment. In fact, she was about to ask to be excused if only to regain her composure when the Captain cast a sideways glance at the Lock, still balled up in his fist, and said far too casually; 

“And, assuming that you are telling me the truth, Your Highness, then I take it you also have no knowledge of the other half?” 

It took all of Amu’s willpower to remain expressionless. Kazuomi looked up under the brim of his hat, hard and piercing, his eyes glinting, his hand pointedly resting just beside the pistol on the desk. His trigger finger was itching and Amu thought she could smell the powder inside. 

“The other half?” the Princess knitted her eyebrows together in mock-confusion. 

Kazuomi was having none of it. “The secondary piece,” he went on, as though he were discussing the weather - as though they had been having a pleasant conversation this entire time instead of one laced with lies and cunning, overshadowed by that ever-present threat of the unknown. “The piece that pairs with the Humpty Lock. The _Dumpty Key.”_

There was a poignant pause. Kazuomi was studying her. Amu called upon every ounce of strength left in her spirit to hold herself together, yet beneath the skin her blood was cold, her guilty conscience nagging away unceasingly because, of course, it was just another step she had to take if she ever wished to live another day. 

And, after all, she had done such an abysmal job of concealing her Humpty Lock… But to drag _Ikuto_ down with her as well? It was unthinkable. And that was possibly all that held her upright as she blinked back at the Captain and shook her head far more confidently than she felt; 

“No, Captain.” 

“Do you know _of_ it?” 

“No, Captain. It would make sense for there to be a matching piece,” she added, purely for effect; “but my family has never kept one.” 

And, inexplicably, Kazuomi believed her. Of course, whilst her own Locket had been depicted in paintings far and wide… There had never been any evidence of a matching Key in her family history. It was a more convincing lie than Amu knew. 

"The two are important to you." Amu said, beginning to grow bold after her lucky escape with the mad Captain; "Pardon me, Captain, but what exactly are those two trinkets so important for?" 

"That isn't your place to ask." 

Amu hadn’t expected an answer, but it was still disappointing. Effectively, it ended the conversation. Kazuomi relaxed back into his chair and waved a lazy hand towards his son. Ikuto stepped wordlessly out from the shadows towards her. Amu wasn’t sure she’d be able to look him in the eye after this. 

“You will remain in your cabin for the rest of the day,” the Captain said. And then, as they reached the door, he chuckled drily. “Oh…” - Amu turned back just in time to see a malicious smirk spread across his nasty, thin lips - “And, as a way of punishment, Your Highness shall not be receiving any meals from this point onwards. Perhaps a side of tack in the evening, if you’re lucky, but I do hope that you won’t miss the dry taste of pirate food. It truly isn’t befitting for such royal blood.” 

Amu’s jaw dropped. _“Excuse me?”_

_“Amu-”_ Ikuto hissed in her ear warningly, his breath against her ear, a hand resting on her arm. It was the first time he’d so much as _breathed_ audibly since they’d entered the room, but Amu didn’t care. Suddenly overcome with a burning injustice, she yanked herself out of his grasp. 

“What makes you think you can _do_ such a thing?” she demanded, incredulous. “Do you wish to be charged with Her Highness’ _death_ as well as imprisonment?” 

“You have greatly displeased me, Miss Hinamori,” was the breezy reply. “Perhaps you should have thought about the consequences of your actions when you first decided to mislead to me. Good day, Your Highness. I should rest up if I were you.” 

If this was what he had meant by ‘plans’ - watching on in sadistic amusement as his hostage starved to death - then Amu was thoroughly taken aback. In fact, she was about ready to stand her ground and argue until she was granted the equivalent of a royal banquet to her door each day, but Ikuto was ushering her out of the musty cabin faster than she could protest. She found herself, breathless and spent, leaning against the walls of the corridor, trying so desperately to deal with the sudden onslaught of emotions that had overcome her in the past half hour or so. Fear and terror and helplessness and the never-ceasing readiness for death… 

And then the shame… The humiliation. The _heartbreak…_

_“I’m sorry, Ikuto…”_

The young pirate had been fumbling about for his keys to unlock her cabin door when her voice met his ears - small and deflated and shaky. When Ikuto turned around, she was slumped against her doorframe and finally, after everything, her eyes sparkled freely with unshed tears. 

“I… I _promised…”_ Amu breathed. “I promised you I would keep it safe from him, and yet…” 

Ikuto, for a moment, was at a complete loss. Her voice cracked. 

“If-If I didn’t know what to do with it, I- I should never have taken it from you!” 

“Amu,” 

“You kept it f-far safer…” 

_“Amu,”_

The Princess raised her gaze by just a fraction and was faced with the most glorious galaxy in existence - with eyes of deepest, darkest blue, speckled with starlight. Suddenly, she was back on the deck of the ship at midnight - beneath the sky, swept away by the sea and the stars and the most heartfelt music she had ever known… 

“I’m sorry, Ik-” 

“You kept it a secret...” 

Amu frowned, staring quizzically up at him. But there was no trace of resentment in Ikuto’s features - no anger or frustration or exasperation. He looked down at her as if in awe, as if he had just lain eyes on something indescribably rare and wonderful. 

“My Key,” he clarified. Relief soothed his normally stoic features. He spoke quietly - so quietly that Amu almost didn’t hear. “You didn’t say anything about my Key…” 

Amu blinked cluelessly, tears forgotten. “N-No… I didn’t. I-I mean, I said I wouldn’t… But, my Lock-” 

But Ikuto just sighed lightly, shrugging his shoulders. “It can’t be helped.” he said as if that was all there was to it - something that Amu didn’t understand one bit, but she kept silent. “Besides,” he added and his lips began to twitch into a mischievous sort of smirk that had her blushing, self-conscious. “What good’s a lock without its Key?” 

Amu’s heart skipped playfully in her chest. That devilish smirk was catching, she thought, as she bit her lip to keep from grinning back. To think - Captain Ichinomiya was so distraught about only having half of the puzzle he craved to complete so badly… And here it was, right under his very nose and safe in Ikuto’s pocket at that very moment. There was something incredibly defiant, something so deviant in that thought that it almost made her hopeful. All of the Captain’s might and angst and rage wouldn’t be enough for him to seize that precious Dumpty Key. He was _completely_ clueless. Amu allowed herself that knowing grin as she glanced back towards the looming shadow at the end of the hallway. 

“Amu…” 

Ikuto met her gaze. She waited patiently. All of a sudden, the air was tense. 

Eventually, Ikuto sighed. He didn’t understand. He didn’t _get it - why_ should she go to so much trouble to keep his secret from the Captain when her life was already on the line? When she’d already been through so much that day? It would have been far easier to just cave - to give in and accept the fall and trade her life for his… But she didn’t. 

_“Thank_ you.” 

The briefest smile graced her pale features, but it was fleeting - like a slim ray of sunlight through thick cloud. Amu shook her head. “Ikuto… _Why_ am I here?” she uttered and she sounded so weak that Ikuto wanted to storm straight back into the Captain’s cabin and take out the man himself. That waver in her voice - it wasn’t right. It wasn’t _Amu._ Ikuto didn’t like it one bit. 

Briefly, he was reminded of that blissful night - standing beside her on the deck of the Shining Black, the light of the stars dancing on the twin crystals of the Humpty Lock and Dumpty Key, inseparable, immaculate. But, what he had not thought of back then (how _foolish_ of him! How _unbelievably stupid!)_ was that he had effectively robbed her of that beautiful gift known as plausible deniability that ensured she would be safe from Kazuomi's wrath. She truly hadn’t been able to give his Captain that so-desired locket up until then because he hadn’t been _stupid_ enough to leave her to bear its burden. 

It was all his fault. The thought made him feel so low that he didn't want to face her. 

It must have been indescribably heartbreaking to hand over that Lock. It must have been hellish, Ikuto realised, to just let it go after all this time - to receive no absolutely no explanation whatsoever despite this whole predicament! Her Highness was still in the dark a world away from home; she had no chance of freedom in sight… And Ikuto knew how that felt. He knew it more than anyone. He was used to the constant weight of chains; he was used to that sinking feeling, dragging him down into the depths of hopelessness and despair until all he really wanted was to just crawl away into the dark and never breathe another word to anyone ever again because to live was just so _bleak_ and _hopeless_ and _tiring..._

But Ikuto didn't want that for Amu. And, for all her troubles, she had absolutely nothing to show for it. Not her freedom, nor her status, not even her family heirloom. It was so cruelly taken from her - something so precious and close to her heart… Like his Key. He thought of it tucked away neatly in his pocket. He thought of how it had come to him. He thought of the comfort it had brought him on cold, gloomy nights - how it still remained his most treasured possession to date… 

“Amu,” he began, low and steady. He made his decision far quicker than he ever thought he would. He took a breath. “Amu… I will tell you. I promise I will tell you why you’re here,” Ikuto said and he saw the ways her eyes lit up in an instant; “but, first, answer me this… Why did you pretend not to know about my Key?” 

It was clear that Amu hadn’t been expecting that. She hesitated, looking almost sheepish, twiddling her fingers together out of habit. Ikuto watched as her cheeks turned pink and tried with every fibre of his being not to smirk. The word ‘adorable’ sprang to mind. 

“W-Well,” Amu stammered once she’d found the words; “I-It appears that Captain I-Ichinomiya gives you enough trouble as it is… A-And- Well… I said I wouldn’t, didn’t I? I-I realise that it means a lot to you…” she trailed off quietly, shrugging. “Besides, the Dumpty Key isn’t mine to give away in the first place.” Ikuto laughed quietly to himself, but she still heard it. She flushed brilliantly, folding her arms. “Oh, j-just open the door, Ikuto!” 

A smile twitching at the corners of his lips, Ikuto complied, unlocking the door to her cabin and letting it swing open. Flustered Amu was an entertaining Amu, he decided as he watched her scamper inside. 

“They’ll be wondering where I’ve gone out there,” he told her, leaning up against the open doorframe; “so I won’t tell you anything now.” - Amu opened her mouth to argue, but he raised a finger, rendering her silent - “I’ll come back later tonight. When the rest of the crew go below deck for the night, I’ll be back. No interruptions…” And Ikuto’s gaze was so sincere - so firm and gentle and earnest that she truly believed him. “I promise.” 

Amu wondered if he could hear her heart thudding in her chest. She could feel herself swelling - chest puffing out as the anticipation welled up inside. She nodded firmly. 

“Plus,” Ikuto added, almost as an afterthought; “I suppose I should thank you for keeping everything to yourself.” 

There was a playful twinkle in his eye that had Amu grinning that cheeky grin once again. “Ikuto,” she said in mock-offence; “I’m not exactly going to give up on you _just_ like that… Not when you trusted me with it.” 

Her reward was the most grateful smile she’d ever seen - bright and soft and comforting amidst the grey spaces that usually clouded his features - and, though her stomach began to ache with hunger and her body tired after the rush of the day, it was a hopeful, memorable sight that kept her feeling warm and cheerful long after he’d left her alone in her little cabin. 

~.~.~


	22. Twenty-two

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

“All taverns have been searched, Commander.” 

“And all suspects found?” 

“Yes, Commander.” 

“And all Captains taken into custody?” 

“Yes, Commander.” 

Tadase dug the end of his staff into the sand beneath his feet, watching as it swirled and sifted beneath his weight, the gem set upon its hilt a beacon of purest blue light in the waning afternoon. “Perfect.” he said. “Thank you, sir.” 

The faceless naval officer bowed low and proper before retreating and returning to his post beside the Seraphic Charm, anchored at the edge of the bay amongst a sea of blue uniform. All along the sheltered cove stood Tadase’s men - good and honest military men in the King’s colours, all perfectly in order like little tin men arranged in a child’s playroom. Behind them there loomed the masses of the majestic, royal ships of His Majesty’s naval force. They were impeccable; proud; these men-of-war towered over the scraggy, battered, beaten little sloops that were scattered across the horizon; without order, without permission and ugly on the face of the water. They gathered and huddled like flies above a stagnant pool, Tadase thought. They clustered as bugs to rotting food; as vultures to prey. He grimaced at the sight of them. He did not fear them as so many sailors did. Not when they were so easily crushed by the magnitude of his own fleet. They were cowardly. 

Tadase stood on the edge of the quays that marked the face of the cove and stared at the clusters upon clusters of ramshackle huts and houses that clung to the hillsides. The small isle he had stepped ashore upon was small and craggy, soaring mountainous into the sky, yet still these men insisted on clinging onto its slopes for dear life. This island was notorious. This place was well-known to those who lived in Seiyo - to all who had heard of the dreadful deeds of the pirates that lurked in national waters; lying in wait like predators to snap up all merchant ships that crossed their paths and drag them down into the deep, hoarding their goods, killing their men… 

Tadase gazed up at the steep inclines of the terrain beyond and scowled. Every building had been devised by the hands of a pirate - every inn; every tavern; every brothel; every shop had been crafted by and for the use of these lowly buccaneers. It made him want to torch them all - to wipe their mark off the face of the landscape forever. They killed innocent men and set their ships ablaze, their homes in ruin; they stole their possessions and their livelihoods and to think that they had been allowed to group and fester and _grow_ in a place like this… It was unacceptable. 

And that was why, of course, the Commander was there. Not _only_ could be perhaps find a clue as to where Her Highness has vanished to, but he would also be able to make his mark on the place. The King had offered some time ago a pardon to these unlawful rats - a pardon giving to any who would take it the offer of renouncing a life of piracy and forgiveness for all their past crimes in exchange for the promise that they would take up alternative lifestyles on lawful terms. Those who had accepted usually took up farming or became merchant sailors, however the turnout rate was, as usual with these types of decrees, usually poor and the majority of men who took their pardon had often gone back to thieving and buccaneering within a few months, for a much greater profit could be had if you had not paid for your goods in the first place. Here Tadase would finally punish those who had rejected the kindness of the King and, at the same time, investigate the disappearance of his now-fiancée. 

Two birds with one stone. The _perfect_ opportunity. 

The tropical breeze came strong and steady from across the water and the smell of salt was thick under Tadase’s nose. Behind him, the sun had almost set, sinking beneath a horizon burnt red. The sheltered side of the cove had blackened, succumbing to shadow, so stark in contrast with the island itself that still glowed like amber under candlelight. Yet it fell to the darkness with each passing second and soon enough the entire island would be as dull as a burnt-out coal. The fire would go out in this town before night fell, Tadase pondered, as in the distance his men still continued on their merciless raid. No stone would be left unturned; no building untouched; no corner unchecked. It would be ruthless and cold and unfitting of such a still summer night washed with the pale orange of the tropical sun… 

But it would be worth it, even though many streets had already been splashed with blood. Sabred had been drawn, pistols primed and, for a short while, their endeavour had fallen into chaos. These pirates didn’t know how how to help themselves, the Commander thought briefly. They just didn’t know when to stand in line - didn’t know when the jig was up! 

Even as he dwelled on this, the sound of many footfalls came marching down from the main road that wound its way up the length of the rugged island. His men in uniform came, appearing in the distance in rows of two, as orderly and restrained as a good soldier should be. Between them they led several scruffy and drunken men whose hands were bound with rope. Like puppies they followed with their tails between their legs down to the level of the quays. There they halted, were organised into a single line and waited to be held in the belly of one of the warships that sat calmly in the docks. Most grumbled, cursing and swearing terrible oaths, spitting at their captors. Others were silent, perhaps too withdrawn from the world under the influence of drink and smoke to pay attention. 

His nose wrinkling under the sudden waft of cheap alcohol, Tadase stepped over to the officer who had spoken to him earlier. 

“Is this it?” he asked, eyeing each pirate captain with a steely determination in his glowing eyes, red beneath the light of the sun. 

The young man nodded. “Yes, Commander. Twelve of them we found here, though all deny any involvement in Her Highness’ disappearance. I suggest, if I may be so bold, sir, that some of them require thorough questioning. But, nonetheless, here they are.” 

The Commander nodded. He took in the appearances of each and every one of the twelve lawless captains who stood now before him in the evening light. Their backs against the entrance to the cove, they were cast into shadow and the silhouettes of their sorry, weather-worn bodies spread out far in front of them. Their darkened faces Tadase could at best make out. It was as if they were veiled and the Commander only allowed a fleeting glimpse into the true gloom and murky black waters of the pirate world. He cast his eyes over each of them and he saw that some were old and frail and most probably only the captains of old, dying crews that were fading and dimming in the shadows of more successful, younger rivals. 

Several of those were among them. There were about six who Tadase could safely say were truly leaders of men regardless of the type of business they indulged in. Whereas the hunched-over forms of older captains were unkempt and filthy and their clothing patched and grey, these few were dressed in bold, bright coats with fine breeches and shiny brass buttons. Their hats were newly embroidered, their beards trimmed and they stared back at this figure of the law with bright eyes and challenging smirks - the very picture of defiance. They stood out amongst those other aged lot and the other few who were, at present, too drunk to stand. Tadase had to admit to himself that they were really the only ones here who he thought capable of abduction. 

"Alright," he began and he took a deep breath of sea air to ready himself. He saw some of the younger, cockier pirates begin to rile as their bounds were secured. He ignored them and simply raised his voice over their incoherent jabbering. “Allow any man of any of these crews who wishes to give information the privilege to do so. They may be offered sympathy at their trial for cooperation if they wish to tell the truth in the stead of their company, but give but _one_ chance before they make for the mainland. Do _not_ sympathise so greatly once this chance has been declined. Understood?” 

His men saluted; “Yes, Commander.” 

“And give these ruffians here out most unpleasant cells in the brigs.” he added, as an afterthought. 

“Of course, sir.” 

Casting a dirty look at their prisoners once more, Tadase sighed to himself. It would be long before they could set off again with such a number of captives. A stop at the mainland would be needed before they could continue. That was, of course, if they didn't get any information. The captains would be questioned later that night aboard their ships and Tadase would have to be present and so, having overseen the raid more than enough already, he made to head off for his quarters on the Seraphic Charm. He would discuss the preparations with his colleagues and would have to freshen up if he was to appear completely respectable when he faced these criminals later on. Not that they deserved it, but to see them pale in comparison to his noble light was a satisfaction he took immensely. 

But it was then - just then as he turned to make his leave; as he took one last, fleeting glance at the smoke billowing from the ransacked taverns; just as he shifted his gaze away from the line of forlorn men, that the commotion started. 

At first it had been simply angry muttering and cursing as Tadase’s men made to escort their prisoners back to the ships. First it had been harmless, verbal abuse - oaths and the occasional scuffle of boots on stones. 

And then louder and louder it became and it seemed as though some of the drunken men had been snapped out of their daze as the _‘shing!’_ of a saber rang through the evening air - firing warning shots in Tadase’s head. He heard yelling. He turned, blood pumping, sprinting back towards the crowd. 

His mouth fell open. A naval man lay on the ground (one of the ones who had led the pirates down to the docks, he recalled faintly), his shoulder cut open, bleeding profusely between the shreds of his uniform. A mere _minute_ he had been gone and in the few moments in which his back had been turned one of the pirate captains - one of the younger, smug-looking ones that made Tadase’s gut uneasy - had shaken away his captors and produced a concealed dagger from the inside of his boot. He waved it now - pointing it threateningly at any man who dared inch closer to him. His bonds had been cut and his eyes were wild and rampant with the sort of terror the Commander had only seen in the gaze of a terrified, caged animal. However many tricks this man had up his sleeve, none of the officers could tell. They exchanged wary glances before their eyes fell upon Tadase. 

“Stand down, Captain,” he said, his tone resolute. He stepped towards the edge of the circle that surrounded the crazed man and placed a hand on the hilt of his saber. “Or else you won’t make it off this island.” 

_“Ah,”_ the pirate sneered and the officers were slightly disconcerted to note that the man was stone-cold sober. “I think I can do that! Sounds mighty nice, stayin’ here! But wouldn’t you boys all like to _join me?”_

He lunged forwards - in Tadase’s direction - but the other naval men were faster. A group of them pushed forwards, forcing him back, attempting to surround the man and restrain him, but to no avail. He was slick and flighty; he slid sideways and evaded one man’s grasp, whirling round, brandishing his blade. Several men cried out as he slashed about them wildly, crazed like a bloodthirsty animal. They staggered backwards, not deeply cut, but shocked. All but one still stood to face their dangerous opponent - a young recruit, barely out of boyhood. Tadase’s blood ran cold. The boy, now realising he stood alone, trembled visibly. The pirate captain smirked horribly and raised his dagger. 

With an alertness and keen stealth that he had only managed to perfect through combat, Tadase swooped across the quayside, swiftly unsheathing his saber in one, smooth move and just in time deflected the blow intended for the poor new recruit. The pirate staggered on unsteady feet behind him, but now the Commander and the captain faced each other, man to man, and Tadase looked down briefly at the other's weapon. It was small, but it was jagged and rusty and coloured with the blood of many other men. He swallowed. 

_"Captain! Don’t be a fool-!"_

The animal lunged again, brandishing the dirty knife. Tadase’s sword locked with his - tried desperately to push him back, but the dagger was smaller and swifter and he had had to lean in _much_ too close to lock arms with the man... The captain hobbled on his feet. He was far too close. 

Far, _far_ too close… 

In one last, clumsy move, the pirate drove his dagger downwards. Tadase grit his teeth in pain. 

And at that moment, gunshots cracked, splitting clean through the evening air, and the pirate fell to his side, struck in the chest no less than three times. A silence fell, interrupted only by the Commander’s own ragged breathing. Insects were beginning to sing in the background. The waves picked up under the evening tide. Gunpowder lingered in the air. 

A senior officer jogged over to the scene and knelt beside him. “Commander!” he said, placing a hand firmly on his shoulder. “Commander, are you well?” 

Hunched over on the filthy floor of the docks, Tadase glanced down at his left-hand side. The space beneath his fingers was warm and slick. He pushed back the sudden, overwhelming wave of nausea and breathed deeply. 

"I am well." He replied, trying to keep his voice as firm as possible. He looked up at the crowd that had formed around the body of the pirate and almost felt like screaming in frustration. They would get no information out of a dead man, but he had more to worry about at that moment than one dead prisoner. A doctor had been sent for him and he reluctantly had to uncover the wound he had tried to hide. 

"I'm fine." He tried to say as the doctor helped him stand; as he avoided the gaze of his fellow officers; even as he hobbled over to the first injured man with the severed shoulder and attempted to help him dress his wounds. 

“I’m fine,” he insisted, though a sweat built up upon his brow and his head became light... For nothing would get in the way of his endeavour. 

_Nothing._

"I'm fine." was all he said as they escorted him to the doctor's quarters, still muttering, still gasping... 

"I'm fine…" 

~.~.~

Watching the setting sun from the shadows of her cabin had been a slow, laborious torture for Amu. Never had a day seemed to wane so slowly - never before had a single minute felt like an eternity. Not at least since that very first day she had spent upon this ship, but this was surely a close contender. 

Amu knelt on her mattress, leaning up against the wall, her nose nearly pressed upright to the glass of the window as she watched the very last of the golden rays dip below the waves. Overhead, pink and orange and red gave way to the cool tones of the night. Gradually, the clouds stained purple; the sky grew inky, stained with those innumerable shades of blue that so reminded her of the buccaneer she still sat up waiting for. Briefly, Amu was reminded of all those nights she had spent awake and longing on her balcony at the palace. She smiled to herself. The stars still existed. And, as she saw the first few lonely pin-pricks begin to sparkle on the horizon, she hoped that they would shed their blessed light on her that night. 

Amu had not been able to keep still the whole day. Time was dragging itself lethargically forwards, so _tauntingly_ , and many, _many_ times in that long afternoon she had sworn that she’d nearly gone mad with the anticipation and isolation of it all. Of course, Amu had spent just as long a space of time on her own back at the palace before, but at least there had always been someone there to check in on her - a tutor or Rima perhaps. Many long hours she and Rima had spent together simply at on her bed, content in each other’s company for as long as the maid was permitted to be there, but here there was no one to interrupt the silence. There was no one to distract her; no one to keep her mind from racing as she mulled over all of Ikuto’s words in her head again and again. 

_“I’ll come back later tonight.”_

And, in the ever-growing darkness, Amu could have sworn she felt a warmth blossom in her chest. 

_“I promise.”_

A smile crept once again across her face at the thought, but she still couldn’t help but feel somewhat nervous. It had been the strangest day, the Princess mused. She pressed her cheek against the cool glass of the porthole and craned her neck to get a better view of the moon as it rose in the sky. It shone bright that night, casting ethereal light against her milky skin, and Amu sighed. The moon was almost as lonely as she had felt that day. But, then again, at least it had the stars beside it to light up the darkness. Amu had not been isolated by the Captain for quite some time. It was certainly a feeling she did not miss. She longed for company; she longed for the few acquaintances she had made to make an unexpected appearance; and still she counted the seconds - ticking by incessantly - until she heard that knocking on the door that would signal Ikuto’s entrance. But she couldn’t settle herself - this was killing her! All this time Captain Ichinomiya had tried to keep her shrouded in the darkness - obstructing her view, shielding her against the light - yet tonight her eyes would be opened and Amu had never felt so restless. A part of her felt almost foolish for allowing her hopes to rise so high. Well, Ikuto _was_ a pirate, after all… 

Amu shook her head roughly, forcefully as if to rid herself of the thought. No, no - that was the anxiety talking. Ikuto was many things, but ‘dishonest’ was a word that she just couldn’t place to him. Had he ever really lied to her? No, she thought. He had returned the Humpty Lock to her, after all! And, besides; 

“Ikuto would not make an empty promise.” 

Just saying the words aloud calmed the unease in her stomach; blew back the clouds of doubt in her mind. And she was sure of it. Ikuto may have been an outlaw, but she did not believe for one second that he was a liar - not without good reason, anyway. Amu’s heart warmed. For all that Ikuto might have been he was, deep down, incredibly considerate. Aloof, perhaps, and somewhat reserved, withdrawn from the world, but Amu was sure now - more than ever! - that it was but an act. That indifference was not Ikuto. And no one that far from redemption could have crafted such exquisite melodies. 

And then there had been- 

_“I-I thought-”_

_“Utau,”_

_“Ikuto- I-I thought they were going to-”_

_“Utau-”_

_“I thought… I thought it was going to be like that day-”_

_“It’ll never be like that day again, Utau.”_

_“-when they grabbed me to live on this_ God-awful ship!” 

_“Shh, Utau…”_

Amu felt more than a little guilty when she thought back on it now - back to earlier that afternoon when she’d heard his footsteps, light, yet distinct, down the corridor; when she’d heard his voice, so hushed and soft so as not to be heard, but Amu had good hearing and so she’d leant against the door, listening faintly as Utau - string, fiery, _intimidating Utau!_ \- sniffled and choked against her brother’s chest. 

She had quickly retreated upon gathering the gist of their conversation, giving them their privacy, feeling shameful for having intruded on such a tender moment. Even Utau could break, it seemed. Even the most resilient could crumble; could falter; even the strongest could be reduced to a wreck when confronted with such traumatic memory and, though Amu didn’t quite understand it, it seemed that the arrival of the Dark Fortune had stirred something deep within Utau’s soul that should never have been allowed to see the light of day again. Utau’s strength was, for the most part, Amu realised, a façade. She was more similar to her brother than Amu had thought. 

But that voice… So calm and caring; so gentle and earnest… Utau was truly lucky to have him. It was a promising thought. She had a brother who stuck by her and would come to comfort her when she needed it most. Amu shared that feeling. He had treated her with such consideration and the more she thought of him… Well, the more grateful she was to have him here aboard with her on the Shining Black. Amu could have been left with one of Captain Ichinomiya’s brutes! She could have been left in the care of a cutthroat or a lecher or a thug to guide her through the days, but no, she had gotten Ikuto. And there was no one else she could have chosen to replace him. Just the thought of watching him walk through that cabin door tonight… It made her stomach flip in ways she’d never felt before. It was… _Odd._

Although Amu thought, as a sudden sharp pain flared in her stomach and a wave of lightheadedness overcame her, that it _might_ have had something to do with the lack of food. She tried to raise herself to her feet, but she was weak. Of course. She hadn’t had a bite to eat since breakfast and, thanks to the introduction of the Captain’s new rule, it seemed that she would not have another for quite some time. 

Amu was just beginning to lament over the loss of her semi-regular mealtimes when the knocking on the door reached her ears. She heard boots on planks; the jingle of keys; the click of the latch. The Princess found herself smiling as Ikuto entered (finally! After all this time!), looking over his shoulder before closing the door behind him and dumping a small, woven bag onto the table. 

“You kept your word, Ikuto.” Amu said, unable to find the words for much else. 

The pirate raised an eyebrow questioningly. “Were you expecting me to break my promise?” he asked and Amu opened her mouth to protest, but there was a spark in his eye alight with humour that made her stop. Ikuto smirked teasingly. “I’m _ashamed_ of you, Your Highness,” 

Amu rolled her eyes. “I’m relieved,” she finally said, wandering over. 

Ikuto shrugged lightly. “Doesn’t matter,” he said, sounding not one bit offended; “I wouldn’t expect you to believe me. You shouldn’t be so trusting,” he smirked; “honestly, _Amu_ , letting strange pirates into your room at night…” 

Amu flushed brilliantly, but chose not to dignify his cheeky remarks with a response. “W-What’s in this?” she asked, deciding to swiftly change the subject. She pointed to the little bag on the table and peered into it. “If this..?” And she trailed off, completely astonished. “You’ve brought me _food?”_

And, true to her word, the entire bag was filled with apples and crackers and tack; roughly-cut slices of hard bread; leftover roast lamb; a block of cheese; a couple of lemons… The list went on. Amu beamed, her mood instantly lifted. The idea of starving had plagued her most of the afternoon and yet here was entire pirate-style course! She looked around only to find Ikuto had already made himself comfy sprawled out on her bed, leaning against the headboard with his hands tucked neatly behind his head. 

“Don’t eat them all at once.” he teased. 

“But this is far more than my average ration!” Amu mused aloud. She took out an apple and portion of lamb, frowning at it for a moment. “Are you sure this is okay? Someone will notice if the stocks run low, won’t they?” 

“Amu,” Ikuto began, slowly as if he were talking to a child. All hint of humour had vanished. “You have not eaten a thing since this morning and won’t eat again until I can bring you more. I’d ration those out pretty thin if I were you.” 

That was true, she reasoned. She would have to save what morsels would keep the longest. She picked out an apple and went to join Ikuto, perched on the edge of the bed, biting wolfishly into the fruit. She could have moaned in satisfaction. Its juice tasted nothing short of blissful on her tongue; its flesh heavenly in her mouth. It was possibly the most divine apple Amu had ever tasted. Something so simple had never felt so fulfilling and Amu vowed to never take it for granted again. Not to mention, to think that Ikuto had thought to bring it for her made her feel almost giddy. 

But, underneath it all, a seed of worry had planted itself in the back of her mind. _‘Until I can bring you more’_ he’d said... 

“Someone’s going to notice, Ikuto…” Amu began uneasily. Her blood grew chilled in her veins. What would happen when the Captain noticed that she hadn’t died of starvation? What if someone wondered where their food was going? What if Kazuomi’s brutes realised? 

Across from her, Ikuto said nothing. He was probably trying not to think of it himself. Probably rightly so, for it didn’t bear thinking about - at least not for now. Amu decided to drop it until some other time, remembering that they had much to discuss that night as it was. 

“Thank you, Ikuto.” Amu said, smiling over at him. She quickly finished the last of her apple and turned to look at the pirate’s face, lit by moonlight filtering in through the window beside them. “But, anyway… You said you’d tell me…” 

Amu trailed off as his gaze fell upon her. But Ikuto understood. He nodded and sat upright, shifting until he sat beside her, and rested his chin in his hand. 

“I did.” he said. 

Amu’s stomach flipped once more in excitement. She stared back at him expectantly. 

It would be quite a night. 

~.~.~


	23. Twenty-three

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

“You know, I must say I’m astonished,” Ikuto said, first and foremost, his deep voice resounding throughout the dim cabin; “that you don’t know anything about the Lock that brought you here in the first place.” 

Amu almost found herself laughing drily at that. It was ridiculous, but it was true. A defeated sort of sigh left her lips, her fingers reaching up to that empty space about her neck. Of course, her Lock was no longer there. It was instead just down the hall - just out of reach! - laying in the hands of a dirty, thieving buccan, its radiance dimmed by the gloom that shrouded his soul. Amu supposed she should have been used to it by now - to that lack of weight and touch of gold against her chest - but now more than ever it bore into her heart. Especially so when the consequences of her actions were yet unclear. 

Amu pushed the thought away, shoving it deep down into the back of her mind, and tried to remain in the present rather than brooding on her less-than-bright future. 

“I know that it is an heirloom,” Amu began, biting at the edge of her lip thoughtfully; “and I know that it was handed down to me from my mother and from her mother before that - all the way back to the start of our reign.” She frowned, searching her mind for more. “I know that it was always meant to bring whoever wore it some sort of… fortune? Or _‘good luck’?_ Really, it was the sort of thing my mother would have told me when I was small. She always did love to tell me fairy-stories.” And she briefly glanced over, pausing almost hesitantly. “And, of course, I know that it had its own Key.” 

Ikuto’s lips twitched into a smirk that had Amu wanting to grin back, but he said nothing, digging his hand into his pocket and bringing out the very topic of their discussion. The Dumpty Key fell from the young man’s fingers, dancing on its chain, twinkling golden in the moonbeams by the window. It swayed gently and, as he watched it, Ikuto’s smirk turned into something more of a faint smile. It was a light that touched the dark of the cabin; the warm fondness of some long-kept memory shining in the blue of his eyes; a complete and welcome change as Amu watched, too afraid to interrupt the silence. Neither spoke, staring at the trinket for quite some time. 

“There’s a lot that you don’t know about your Lock, Amu,” Ikuto finally said, lowering his Key and setting it still in his palm, somewhat distracted by whatever emotion had taken hold of him. 

Amu leaned forwards, interest piqued. “Such as?” 

That same old teasing grin returned, his eyebrow raised. “Tell me, Amu,” - (she shivered at the way her name fell from his lips) - “did you even know that there existed a Key before I told you?”

_“I-_ W-Well, I-!” what was supposed to be a cool and dignified retort came out as an indignant splutter. Amu’s eye twitched as she watched the man begin to snigger. “I-I’ve _said_ I knew about your Key!” she huffed. “Have you been listening or was this meeting a waste of time because, let me tell you, you’ll be straight out!” 

“Amu,” Ikuto desperately fought his amusement, lowering the hand she’d been pointing towards the door; “Amu, my _point_ was that you never knew how important these two trinkets were before I showed you this Key.” He paused to let her ire settle. Amu folded her arms stubbornly, trying not to focus on the heat rising beneath her cheeks. “You never knew about the significance of this Key or your Lock until you came aboard this ship,” Ikuto continued. His amusement was fading, his smirk dropping, and Amu had a feeling that their conversation was finally taking a more serious turn. “And perhaps you should have. Perhaps you should have, for these two, unless together, should have been kept a secret. If you had known, perhaps you might have worn it less - or at least not too obviously in public. There plenty of people who are willing to sully their hands with blood to gain such a prize. And some of them _have.”_

Amu swallowed thickly. A chill ran through her body. The memory of Captain Ichinomiya’s murderous gaze was still fresh in her mind and, for the first time, she wondered just how much of that blood must have covered his hands alone. How many lives had been lost under his own doing? Under those steely cold eyes? The thought would have made her ill had she not been so desperately hungry. Ikuto’s voice was grounding as he went on and Amu tried to focus on the subject at hand; 

“You learnt that the Lock supposedly brings its wearer fortune,” Ikuto held up the Key before her face; “but the other half of the legend rumours that the Key is an object which can grant its owner power. I’m sure you get the idea - there are many men in this world whose lives are driven to rule one way or another.” 

Amu shivered, the lingering taste of her meagre meal turning bitter in her mouth. “I-I’m sure I can think of one.” 

She was sure she saw a shudder travel through Ikuto’s shoulders. How could either of them forget the malice that lurked just doors away? Ikuto lowered his voice, as if suddenly afraid that the Captain would spring upon them from the shadows. “Kazuomi has your Humpty Lock now… He’s going to search for the Key with far more determination than ever before. He wants it… I doubt he’ll ever stop.” 

“But… But, it’s…” Amu paused, her brow furrowed in confusion. She shook her head, laughing into the darkness at the pure lunacy of it all. “But it’s just a _legend!”_ she exclaimed. “It’s a story! A myth! An old wive’s tale - nothing more! It’s… It’s a _fairy story._ How can pieces of gold and crystal bring strange powers upon whoever owns them? How could an object hold such unearthly magic?” And Amu halted abruptly, a dreadful thought forming in her head. She groaned; “Oh, _God,_ you’re not honestly going to tell me that it really is magic, are you now, Ikuto? Because if that’s the case then just throw me overboard right now - I shall go _mad_ surrounded by superstitious pirates chasing powers that don’t exist!” 

Ikuto shook his head. “Gold brings avarice,” he said simply; “and jewels as well, I suppose, but that is little compared to the allure of gold. We’re pirates, after all. And that’s what this is really all about.” He shifted on the bed a moment and leaned back against the wall which was quite inconvenient for Amu, as it turned out. The light of the moon outside fell across him; his hair glowing like a sapphire beneath the sun; the muscles beneath his thin shirt suddenly darkened, toned after countless days of labour at sea, stark in contrast to the white linen. Amu made a point to stay seated in the shadows if only so that he didn’t notice the way her pink cheeks blossomed into red. 

Thankfully, Ikuto was oblivious. “This legend - the myth, the _fairy story_ , if that’s what you wanna call it - it’s far more than that, Princess,” he continued; “Every pirate has heard the story and, if they hadn’t already, they do now that you’ve disappeared. The Humpty Lock and Dumpty Key - power and fortune are only perks, I suppose, of obtaining the two.” 

Amu raised an eyebrow, her flush calming gradually, eyes wide and curious. “Perks?” 

Ikuto paused. And then; 

“There’s a treasure.” he said; “A _Great_ Treasure...” 

And it was all that Amu needed to become well and truly hooked. 

Sat here in the dark of her cabin, she was reminded oh-so strongly of those childhood nights spent sat in her room at the palace with Ami swapping campfire stories; of pouring over her mother’s fables beneath her bedcovers after lights-out; of regaling fictional tales of courage and fantasy and of looking up at the sky at night and wondering just when its light would shine upon her face again. Suddenly Amu was young again. Suddenly she was back in the comfort of her home, looking up at her mother, a fairy tale resting in her lap, the pages open and ready to read, and as the starlight finally settled on Ikuto’s face Amu was drawn towards him like a ship too close to a maelstrom. She hushed and listened on. 

“A treasure,” Ikuto breathed; “worth more than all the spoils of war and rivalry on these seven seas. Worth more than any of the old pirate hoards to the south or the jewel mines in the east. Thought to be worth more than the crown on your father’s head.” He idly turned the Key in his hand over and over again, but he barely laid eyes on it. “Or so they say, anyway.” he added breezily, as if the weight of the room wasn’t pressing down upon their shoulders with every word. “It’s most likely wildly overrated - a pirate’s legend is more like a game of whispers - but, if anyone’s ever found it, nobody knows. Yet Kazuomi is searching for it and to find it he needs both the Lock _and_ the Key. The two were never made to be kept apart.” 

And, all of a sudden, Amu thought she understood. She blinked, staring off distantly into the darkness for a moment. Then she sighed. 

“I don’t believe it…” Amu whispered. “The answer’s inside my Locket, isn’t it?” 

Ikuto chuckled drily, folding his arms and shaking his head. “Pathetic, is it not?” he said quietly. “But you’re right. There’s a secret hidden behind the face of your Lock that, when opened by the Dumpty Key, will lead the way to fortune - to wealth and riches beyond measure. This whole thing is one big treasure hunt and the Humpty Lock is arguably the most important piece of the puzzle…” he sighed. “All Kazuomi needs now is the Key.” 

The statement hung in the air - foreboding and dark and oppressive in the dim light. On that dismal note an uneasy silence fell and Amu shook her head numbly, trying desperately to take it all in. It was all so… _Unbelievable._ It was all so petty. A treasure hunt… Something that she had only heard of in those tales her mother so loved to recall; something she had only ever truly believed when she was young and she and Tadase had played on the beach beside his home, digging for buried doubloons in the sand. 

But Captain Kazuomi Ichinomiya of the Shining Black had taken it so seriously that he had been willing to kidnap a princess for it - a member of the Royal Family! And, with that thought, Amu frowned. “H-How did it come into _my_ family?” she thought aloud. She whirled on Ikuto who startled, drawn from some sort of deep thought process, and asked; “How did the key to _pirate_ gold come into the royal lineage?” 

Following her train of thought, Ikuto shrugged. “It was centuries ago,” he began, as if it were the least important part of the story, hardly worthy of mention, but he answered nonetheless; “It’s thought that the gold and… _Whatever else_ was found by King’s navy back then. They claimed it to be the hoard of a notorious pirate captain, but fact becomes mixed with fiction and seamen like to twist the truth if it makes the story more interesting.” 

“So the treasure became a part of the King’s wealth?” Amu prodded, feeling like that same five-year-old who had once sat at her mother’s feet, tugging her skirts and whining pitifully for more whenever she paused too long mid-way through a story. 

“It’s said that the King had them conceal the riches somewhere secret,” Ikuto murmured, looking like he was trying hard to recall something long distant; “There’s a lot of tales that don’t add up, but all of them say the King had the Lock and Key made to guard his secret and stowed the clues to his hidden stash away behind the crystals of your pendant.” And a tired sigh left his lips - as if he were sick to death of hearing the very story he was telling, having lived with it for so long, dragging him down into these murky waters. “And then the King was betrayed. The story is unclear from then, but the Dumpty Key was stolen and fell through many hands. Men have killed for that Key,” he frowned slightly; “and many have died because of it. Kazuomi is _obsessed.”_ Ikuto spat out the words as if they were poison in his mouth - as if they stung his tongue and burnt the insides of his cheeks. He cast a filthy glare towards the door and Amu knew that he was thinking murderous thoughts towards their Captain, hopefully passed out in his grand cabin at the end of the corridor. 

“And the reason you’re still here, Amu,” Ikuto said, finally; “is because Kazuomi still believes that the Royal family have somehow regained their Key. He thinks you know where it’s hidden. And he’s not prepared to let you go until he is certain that he has it in his grasp… He is desperate. He cannot afford to let you go.” 

And, beside him, Amu hummed low in thought. It took a moment or two to sink in… But, Amu was quite surprised at how readily she accepted everything. Yes, her mind was reeling and her blood was cold beneath her skin, but still Amu found the strength to laugh. She sat up, giggling so clearly without mirth that for a moment Ikuto was worried that something had snapped inside her head. 

“He’s _ridiculous!”_ she gasped out suddenly. “He’s so insistent that I know the whereabouts of this Key despite everything I’ve said!” she said, mostly to herself, but Ikuto looked on, feeling a pang of sympathy for the woman in his chest. She didn’t deserve it, he thought to himself over and _over_ again. 

“I suppose everything I say is a lie in his eyes,” Amu added bitterly. “Although my family has kept that Lock for so long, I suppose I can see his reasoning.” 

“He’s an old, paranoid man,” Ikuto scoffed. “I don’t know how the hell he learned this story to begin with, but it let loose something dangerous within him - some primal lust for power. But, whatever it was, it was strong enough. I’ve heard rumours that Kazuomi used to hunt pirates - that he used to drag them to the gallows himself. But now it looks like he’ll go to any lengths to search for this treasure...” 

Amu felt uneasy all over again. “All for the sake of gold,” she mused. “Strange what a man will do for the sake of riches.” 

Ikuto made a sound that might have been another scoff, but it was hushed and subdued and Amu ignored it. She felt him shift beside her. “He’s become so driven by greed; by competition…” he said, sitting upright. “There are rumours that he and Fortune are engaged in some sort of heated race for the gold. They have a history, we’re sure, but-” 

“But no one knows?” Amu guessed. It wasn’t difficult. 

Ikuto nodded faintly. “No one knows. All any of us know is that it’s for this Great Treasure that might not even exist. Pirate’s stories are more often than not twisted beyond all recollection, deluded as the crews that tell them.” 

“And you keep it on you!” Amu suddenly burst out, the thought hitting her like a bullet, like the wind of a storm in the sails, out of the blue. “You know that the Captain wants your Key and yet you still keep it stowed away in your pocket!” All of a sudden, the Key in his hand seemed to shift beneath her very eyes. Suddenly the cool metal burned; it’s glorious façade a trap; the shine of its crystals as ominous and foreboding as the Captain’s cutlass. _“Why?_ Ikuto, you’ve said he’ll kill for it and I don’t doubt you! You of all people should know what he’s capable of! Is the risk not great enough? Why do you not hide it someplace safe?” 

As Amu finished, her eyes still wide and stern upon him, Ikuto paused. Amu watched him - watched the sudden flash behind his eyes; watched the way his fingers curled around the Key in his palm; she could practically see the conflicting thoughts clashing in his brain. 

“I have had this Key,” he said finally, if uncertainty; “since I first set foot upon this ship. I have had no opportunity to hide it elsewhere.” 

Amu did not think that sounded like a true answer. She glared, her gaze piercing. 

“It’s far less of a risk.” Ikuto sighed. “Nowhere's safe on this ship. There’s nowhere here to hide… Besides, Kazuomi doesn’t suspect - not once in all these years I’ve carried it,” - a devious smirk - “and where better to hide it than under his very nose?” 

Amu felt her lips twitching at that face - at that display of pure defiance - but instead she forced a placid face and huffed. “We’re _both_ fools,” Amu concluded, although she had to admit that Ikuto’s strategy did perhaps have some merit, given the length of time he’d kept it hidden successfully. She had barely gone a _week…_

A pang of sympathy rent her heart as she realised that Kazuomi probably thought too little of Ikuto to consider him capable of anything so cunning. The Captain had probably thought him too beaten down - too worthless, too pathetic. 

But what would the Captain do if he found out? Ikuto’s strategy had been successful, yes, but it was still a gamble he most certainly couldn’t afford to lose. 

“I don’t understand, though,” Amu piped up, keen to rid the thought from her head, desperate to focus on something that truly did intrigue her; “how has he been able to search for the Lock and Key? The Shining Black hasn’t been spotted near our land in years.” 

At that, Ikuto allowed himself an amused chuckle, the mirth in his eyes alight like the very stars outside in the midnight heaven. “We’re not at sea _all_ the time, Princess,” 

Feeling quite foolish, Amu sheepishly looked away, holding her head as high as she could manage. “I-It’s a valid question!” she insisted, defensive, but that only made the damned infuriating pirate smirk more. “I’d very nearly forgotten this ship existed!” 

“Ah,” Ikuto exhaled, bringing up one of his knees and resting his chin upon it. Amu tried to ignore how comfy he was making himself on _her_ bed. “I admit I do prefer it that way. But when I said the Captain would go to any lengths, I meant it. You remember the raids, don’t you, Princess?” 

Amu drew a sharp breath. Who didn’t? 

“That’s why he has gangs on-shore.” Ikuto clarified. “They’ll do all his dirty work about the mainland for him. That’s where his henchmen here came from, I’d guess.” 

Oh, and it was still all so clear in Amu’s mind. The devastation and the horrors of the burning buildings - of the aftermath of the Shining Black’s infamous raids of old. She remembered it all - the flickering of the flames and the shattering of glass; the ashen faces; the terror of the townsfolk; cutlasses dripping red with blood as the smoke drifted like ink on water into the night sky…

“No one ever knew what they wanted…” Amu murmured. Her eyes were wide, face paling as the pieces slowly slid together in her head, like some missing pieces of a gigantic puzzle were finally beginning to slot into place. The realisation came upon her like a ray of sunlight breaking through overcast clouds, showing bare all that had lain under darkness for many years. “They were searching for them… For the Lock and Key…” 

Faintly, Amu was aware of his voice as Ikuto spoke, low and lifeless. There was a darkness in his eyes - a heavy, brooding darkness, merging into the shadows of the room. “Anyone who might have known… Anyone who might have had research. Anyone connected to the royal line. Anyone…” He trailed off, his gaze lowered to the ground, and all of a sudden he had withdrawn himself from the world again, all of a sudden lost and cast adrift in his own thoughts. A silence filled the room once more. The night wore on and Ikuto still gazed into the dark. The ship groaned softly, breathing with the regular swell of the tide below. 

Amu watched him closely. She sat beside him and looked on as that shadow overcame Ikuto’s face, watching with the feeling that something old and painful had been dug up within his memory. Her heart was sinking. She recognised that expression - cold and far-off - and she had grown to hate it. Ikuto was gone - alone with worries she could not guess. Amu felt a flare of anger, for she knew of course that there was only one man responsible for inflicting such troubles upon Ikuto’s spirit. 

How deeply scarred had his _‘father’_ left him? Just how truly maddening and torturous was it to have stayed on this ship with the Captain for over a decade - trapped with a man who had hurt and abused you in more ways than one? Amu stole a glance at the bruise upon Ikuto’s jawline. It had grown angry and purple over the course of the week, but today it had begun to lessen and now it stained his skin, ugly blue and yellow. Was it worth it? Was such wanton violence worth it all for this wild goose-chase? For running madly into the blue for a mythical treasure and dragging everybody down to hell with you? Indeed, it was absurd - _infuriating!_

But the truth was that it was real. It was happening right here and now as the Shining Black trudged its way across the waters, blindly following a call she could not hear. And, all the while, poor, common, _good_ people like Ikuto had been forced to take their Captain’s tyrannous ways and weather the storm of the journey until they were worn away, their spirits drenched, stifled in seaspray. 

Ikuto didn’t deserve it. And Amu couldn’t bear that he had to take it. 

“Ikuto?” 

Amu shifted closer beside him, her as voice soft and gentle as she could manage. She cast her eyes upon the face of the man who should have been below deck by now; who should have been a guard to her and nothing more; who never should have come sneaking over here in the dead of night to spill all of his Captain's close-guarded secrets and smuggle her such generous portions of food against his father’s will… And Amu still remembered that night on the deck of the ship when that beautiful melody had danced on the sea breeze and the Key first shone for her under the white glow of the moon. She remembered the care with which he had healed her (thankfully) brief experience of scurvy and the gentle, tender touch of a violinist’s hands gliding over soft skin, easing her pain, sending shocks and static straight up her spine. She recalled quickly that desire of hers to earn a trust between them - to see a side to Ikuto that no one else aboard this ship ever had… 

“Ikuto?” Amu said quietly. 

Ikuto blinked his blue eyes once or twice, drawn from his reverie. The ship swelled beneath them and the light from the window faded. The pirate glanced over his shoulder and watched as thick clouds rolled across the sky, blocking out the moon and smothering the white glimmer of the stars. Amu smiled softly and spoke in that gentle, steady way her mother used to whenever she needed to comfort her. 

“I’m sorry, Ikuto,” she said; “I know, it’s cruel - cruel without a doubt that… That your father would-” 

But Ikuto cut her off, 

“He’s not my father.” 

Amu was stunned to silence for a good few moments. Time seemed to still as the words began to sink in, slowed to a grinding halt. Amu could no longer feel the steady rock of the ship, nor the cool of the shadows; she was no longer aware of anything other than the man before her.

“He’s… He’s _not?”_ she gaped after a while, tripping over her own words uselessly. “W-Well then, why do they say..? I mean, I thought-” 

And, to her surprise, Ikuto smirked… But it was cold, without humour. It was bitter and twisted; curled maliciously and Amu felt chilled, slinking back into the shadows. Something stronger than contempt dripped from his tone; 

“He’s not my father.” he said. And then again, quieter, calmer; “He’s not my father…” 

He trailed off and Amu allowed him a moment of quiet, for his voice held a heavy, heartfelt sorrow that made her feel so crushed, so helpless. After all, it seemed as though he was finally opening up to her just the little bit more - it would be brutal of her to press such a sensitive matter. 

“I said that many had died for this Key,” Ikuto began, cupping the very object in question in his hands, shifting it so that the crystals caught the glow of the moon just right. He sighed and, finally, he gave in. Whatever resolve it was that had forced him to bottle everything up for so long no longer mattered. Ikuto no longer cared. He had come this far, so why not go further? Why not when Amu was perhaps the most trustworthy person he had met so far in all his ten years upon this ship? 

Ikuto stared down at the Key in his hand and uttered, just audible; “I think Kazuomi had something to do with my father’s disappearance.” 

Whatever Amu had been expecting, it was most definitely not that. Her mouth hung agape, but not a breath came out. Her heart was moved - so moved that, for whatever reason, she wordlessly shifted back over again until she was flush up against his side. Amu tentatively brushed a hand against his arm, but was too cautious to do much more. She listened. 

“This Key,” Ikuto murmured; “it was my father’s. Kazuomi knew that he had it. I don’t know how, but, somehow, he did. I don’t even remember where my father got it. Passed down, maybe, like your Humpty Lock, but this… This he gave to me before the end - before he left.” And Ikuto shrugged half-heartedly, as if trying to kid himself that it was all no big deal - that it was but a single grain of salt in the sea. “And when he left that night he never came back. Something had worried him - something frightened him - and I’ll bet it was Kazuomi, no doubt, because the next thing we knew his men were at our door. They ravaged our home. They burnt it - they burnt everything. They broke in after nightfall when we were all asleep and tore the place apart - our family home that we had built up for over a hundred years. And they just _burnt_ it.” 

Ikuto stopped for a moment, drawn back to the present. Amu had finally found her courage. She rested a hand on his lower back, her body against his breathing steadily, and finally the young pirate felt as though he had found a rare stone pillar of support in a stormy sea. 

“I escaped,” Ikuto went on, far too casually for the topic at hand; “and I took with me the Dumpty Key and my father’s violin. My mother and Utau had been caught. I didn’t see them - not until I came here. They found me on the streets, living with the drunks and the strays like an alley cat until they came along and brought me here. And by the time he had gotten his hands on me, Kazuomi had locked away my sister and forced my mother into marriage to secure the last of my family’s fortune out of spite…” He exhaled. “And this is where I’ve been for a decade.” 

There was a poignant pause after this - a heavy, unsettling sort of pause that had the little cabin all of a sudden feeling very claustrophobic, stifling even. Speechless, Amu stared ahead into the darkness. The room and the shadows about it swum before her as her eyes grew glassy with unshed tears. She wiped them away with her free hand, though her heart continued to weep for him; for Utau; for the poor woman who had lost her husband and for all the hardships they as a family had suffered. The heartache was indescribable - unimaginable! - but Amu didn’t have to say a word. Ikuto understood far better than she could ever put into speech. He glanced down at her and they sat side by side in the quiet of the cabin, both forlorn, dejected, yet glad for each other’s company. 

The night was growing darker, the cabin colder and Amu hadn’t even realised she was still crying until she felt Ikuto wipe a thumb against her cheek. She sniffed, hurriedly wiping the last of them away, turning to smile gratefully at him in thanks. 

But when their eyes met, Amu found herself frozen in place. Ikuto looked back at her, his face now uncommonly calm, relaxed at the distraction of her presence beside him. The clouds in his eyes disappeared as if banished by the breeze. The shone all on their own - striking and brilliant, a mix of hues of blue and purple as breathtaking as that vibrant night sky she had craved. They stayed on her, bright and unmoving, gazing intently into her own. Amu flushed. Her palms were clammy, her head light. 

_‘Ikuto…’_

Ikuto - who made her heart race like no other. Whilst it had thrummed in her chest in Tadase’s presence - a slow and steady beat, like the timing of a waltz - Ikuto had her pulse racing, breath catching, reeling… The feel of Tadase’s touch had always been so _soft_ , Amu thought, yet somehow withdrawn, cautious, as if there was always something between them - some barrier that had kept him from delving deeper, never breaching that royal façade… And then here was Ikuto and his hands were calloused and worn, but still there lay a tenderness, a gentleness that could make her feel so strong and safe - so protected and grounded and _secure_ even here aboard the ship that all men feared. 

And only now did a sudden understanding root itself deep within Amu’s beating heart. 

This was the side that Ikuto had never shown before - _this_ side here and now in her cabin. Ikuto would never be an open book. He would never lay bare all his emotions nor his troubles, displayed beneath the light of day for all to see. But Amu thought of the way he had comforted his sister; the way he had comforted _her_ ; she thought of the melody that he had played on his violin; thought of the way he had guided her ever since she first awoke in her cabin. She saw it now - that whether by keeping her in or out of the dark, he had only been trying to help her survive. And, Lord, it must have been a predicament for him too, Amu thought! Yes, she had been driven mad by her lack of knowledge… But it was how he had sought to protect her from his stepfather. It was that privilege of having a plausible deniability that would secure her safety in the face of the Captain. It was his own, confusing, way of lending a helping hand. It was some small degree of kindness, however subtle. And _that_ was a real privilege that touched her with such gratitude and joy… And other emotions that had only just begun to rear their heads in her mind. 

Like how Amu couldn’t deny that she was absolutely fascinated by him. 

Amu’s heart was no longer beating in that gentle waltz. Amu’s heart was hammering a constant, crazy rhythm. 

But this was not the night for her to dwell on whatever had changed within her mind. It was not the night for her to succumb - to complicate their relationship further by so recklessly plunging herself into the unknown. And so, though she felt her entire being flush and her chest skip with joy, she held it back and leaned in closer, sending him the most sympathetic look she could muster. 

“Ikuto?” Amu said quietly. 

The Princess didn’t know what she had expected him to say, but the smirk that spread across his thin face was completely unexpected. 

“You feel far too comfortable there, Amu.” 

Immediately she withdrew her hand and shoved him lightly, far too overwhelmed to be truly irritated. He chuckled beside her, oblivious to the tension that still hung over the room. She supposed it was his awkward way of diffusing an awkward situation - completely inappropriate for the tone of discussion! She rolled her eyes. “So _hopeless..!”_

“Completely,” Ikuto hummed, leaning in, his breath fanning against her cheek. Amu tried to ignore it just as she tried to ignore the sudden pang of disappointment in her chest as he moved away from her, rising to his feet with a sigh. “Well… That’s it.” he said simply. “I’m not sure there’s much more left for me to say. I promised I’d tell you the reason Kazuomi had you captured. He has many allies in Seiyo - it would not have been difficult to find out when you were leaving and where you were going. And all for this _treasure…”_

Amu thoroughly understood the look of disgust on his face at this. To think that this had all been for a petty treasure hunt… It made her sick now that it was beginning to sink in. “Yes… Yes, it seems so…” she swallowed with difficulty as if trying to stomach all she had been told that night. “And the only reason I’m still alive is because Kazuomi is clinging on to the hope that I know the whereabouts of the Key… Still, I suppose I should be grateful. Otherwise I should have been dead by now.” She reasoned, although her stomach lurched at the thought. It had to be considered that Kazuomi might indeed come upon the Key one day and her life, hanging by a thread as it was, would be worthless. 

_‘But that’s a thought for another day,’_ she told herself as she rose from the bed and faced the pirate across the room. 

“Thank you, Ikuto.” Amu said, smiling softly. And she meant it. “Thank you.” 

Honestly, how was it that she was fortunate enough for _Ikuto_ to open up to her? How had she earned that privilege? How had _she_ been deemed trustworthy enough for him to come creeping over here after dark with such personal stories? She felt honoured. She felt elated, for she had become a person whom Ikuto could trust enough to lean on when things became too much for him to bear - literally. Her heart fluttered. 

“You’re welcome, Amu.” Ikuto said quietly. “Do you want to ask me anything else?” 

She shook her head firmly. “You’ve done more than enough,” Amu assured him; “You shouldn’t stay _all_ night - the crew will be wondering where you are!” 

Ikuto hummed to himself - a sound of complete amusement, of pure mischief that broke out into a dazzling grin. _“Amu,”_ he drawled and the Princess tried not to pay attention to how good her name sounded as it rolled off his tongue; “you’d have me spend the night?” 

“The _cheek!”_ Amu burst out. _“N-Now, now, Ikuto - down below with you!”_ she cried, though the chuckle that left his throat sent a thrill throughout her entire body as she pursed her lips and practically frog-marched him towards the door. _“D-Don’t want to make the shipmates suspicious!”_

But Ikuto just purred teasingly, “So, _rude,_ Your Highness.” And he paused briefly to find his keys; “Goodnight, _Amu.”_ he added. “I’ll bring you some more food tomorrow, if I can.” 

Amu beamed. “Thank you, Ikuto.” 

And with that he cast her one last cocky smirk and made his leave, the door swinging quietly behind him, the keys jingling as he locked up for the night. Inside, giddy and exhausted, Amu grinned. 

The promise of another sack of food the next day was more than appealing. 

~.~.~


	24. Twenty-four

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

Night lay still and breathless upon the seaside town. Darkness fell swift and sudden, all-encompassing. Silence reigned. Shutters were drawn and taverns were closed, the only light the glow of veiled candles, flickering orange through bedroom windows as one by one the lanterns were extinguished, dying out in little puffs of smoke. And so the shadow crept along the coastline, the town succumbing to the oncoming night from the east. It was as if all had frozen in time save only for the gentle, calm wash of the sea on the shore, rolling in sleepily as if the ocean itself were sighing in content, breathing in a deep slumber. 

Yes, the town had given in to the darkness… Yet one lonely soul remained awake. 

Bright and alert in the hush that had overcome the world, he sat vigil upon his high seat atop the headland - a single torch to shine above all others as a lighthouse sits atop the cliffs. A candle was lit in the study, dancing in the draught drifting in through the open window, and from that beacon there came but a single sound; a whisper; a murmur as subtle as the sea breeze in the rustling grass; as faint as the voices that drifted down to him from the heavens above. 

_“How strange…”_

The screech of a chair. The chinking of china. The sudden _‘tap-tap-tap!’_ ing of footsteps on stone - they all became deafening in his ears, like thunder clamouring above the quiet of his own voice as he scurried up the winding steps, whispering; 

_“How strange. How strange. How very, very strange..!”_

Tsukasa barely stopped to catch his breath as he hauled himself up that last flight of steps, still muttering, hushed, yet excited, curious. He found himself face-to-face with the doors of his observatory - the jewel in the crown of his lavish residence. Yet he did not come to spend the night in that magnificent domed room that glowed with the light of a hundred stars. No. Instead he would look upon the real thing. He turned to the small doorway at the end of the corridor and his heart thrummed with anticipation. 

When he stepped outside he was bathed in moonlight. Tsukasa beamed, the light reflecting in his gentle eyes, and he laughed. He allowed himself a breath of laughter - a little, joyous chuckle as his heart skipped, ecstatic. 

The heavens were ablaze tonight. It was the clearest sky he’d seen in days. 

Here on the rooftop he wandered, pacing along the platform that wrapped around the dome of his observatory. His favourite place to stargaze it was, for sure, for, though the Amakawa mansion possessed more balconies than he could count, the view up here was unlimited. Up here it was as if there existed nothing in this world besides solely him and the stars above - as if he were floating, perched on an island in the very heart of the galaxy, watching the constellations glide around him, hearing their voices speak to him… 

Only here could the fortune-teller see them all - _hear_ them all. And he looked and listened with the keenest eyes and the sharpest ears as he strolled leisurely towards the edge, placing his hands upon the cold, iron railings and craning his head upwards to observe the sky. Tsukasa stood there for some moments, staring - scouring the night for something he could not find until- 

_“Oh..!”_

And there it was - as plain as day, as clear as crystal all of a sudden. It seemed to leap out of the depths of the heavens, standing proud and bright above all other fires around it. Tsukasa gazed upward, awestruck. The light pooled in his eyes. The breeze played gently across his cheeks... And a grin tugged at his lips, for tonight he saw, for the first time in his life, the constellations that he had watched every night ever since he could remember finally sit side by side, their points overlapping, their combined light drowning out all other stars beside them. 

“A trick of the eyes?” Tsukasa asked himself. “A prank on the mind? Or have they truly come together this night?” 

But the stars did not deceive him, for the Lock and Key shone steadily on in the night sky and Tsukasa laughed again - loud and free. 

“Just look how far you’ve come!” he breathed; “My little Marionette, look how far you’ve journeyed…” And he sighed, content. “I’d go as far to say I’m proud of you. Keep on burning. Keep on _hoping...”_

And then, as an afterthought; 

_“Hold on.”_

~.~.~

The sky seemed to shift quicker after that, Tsukasa thought. Days passed by and moons rose and fell in that steady, age-old rhythm that had beat since the very beginning of time and still Tsukasa would remain on his rooftop and marvel and stare in wonder at the sudden, frantic pace with which the stars danced across the night - following them, tracing their patterns, and yet always watching those two that shone so brilliantly above all others. 

They had not moved since. They had not parted. They had barely budged apart since that fateful night when he had first caught sight of them together interwoven, hanging above his head in the dark. 

And perhaps, Tsukasa thought, that his prayers had not gone unheeded, for that flighty Dumpty Key still remained within his sights as never before, clinging on to the fabric of the night. 

And it was not just _he_ that had noticed. 

~.~.~

Quite simply, Utau couldn’t put her finger on it. 

At first, she had thought she was going mad. And that would have been entirely believable, for she had been so badly pushed to her limit already on this damned, infernal ship that it would have been completely plausible for all of this to have just been the fabrications of her deluded mind. It would have been acceptable to think that she had just had one too many sleepless nights; that her paranoia was starting to take a hold of her head; that the gloom of the Captain’s shadow, seeping in through the crack under her door, hanging ominously at the end of the hallway, had begun to creep into the depths of her own, damaged heart… 

But no - no, Utau thought. There was definitely _something._ There was certainly something amiss about the deck of the Shining Black. For it to have crept into her own cabin - for the doubt to reach even _her_ in her barricaded box - surely meant that it must have been true. 

Utau heard it then - a muffled giggle, clear as anything, light and breezy and oh-so out of place in a hellhole like this. Utau wondered briefly if she was mishearing. And then - _there!_ There it was again, louder now, accompanied by the jingling of keys and the creaking of floorboards and there was no doubt in the blonde’s mind that someone was finally there. 

She had risen early and stayed awake all morning for this very moment. Her ears pricking up, her eyes wide as a startled deer, Utau quickly rose from her seat at her rickety table and, with an impressively swift and soundless agility that she had managed to perfect over the years, she scurried over to the doorway. Cunning and stealthy, she pressed her ears to the grain when- 

_“I-Ikuto-!”_

_A-ha!_ They were there - she _knew_ it! 

Utau crouched, her pretty brows furrowing, and peered through the keyhole. And, of course, there they were: her dearest older brother and the Captain’s captured Princess. 

Amu closed her cabin door behind her and, though it might have been but a trick of the light, Utau thought she looked as pink as her hair. She fought the urge to scoff. It was a really unfortunate colour clash, she thought as she watched the Princess hurriedly brush the back of her hand across her mouth. She patted her hands against the ruffles of her skirt and a few crumbs scattered to the floor. Utau frowned and shifted to glance over at her brother, but his back was to her. She had suspected for several days now that he had been feeding her, but it was not until that moment that she’d been able to prove it. 

Utau’s heart sank. She had not wanted to believe it. She had lain awake these past few nights, tossing and turning and _praying_ that that observant little part of her brain was wrong - that Ikuto would not have been so blatantly foolish to disregard their stepfather’s orders _again._ In her head she was tutting, tapping her foot in that ‘I-told-you-so’ manner that everybody hates, but Utau was too taken aback to care as she rested her head wearily against the doorframe, trying not to sigh aloud. 

_‘She’s been smuggling food from the hold,’_ she had told herself. _‘There’s probably a hoard of it in her cabin!’_ so she’d said. But no… She’d just been kidding herself. And, besides, there was no denying it now. All those late nights and early mornings made sense now - all of those stolen glimpses she’d caught of her brother sneaking up through the hatchway, tip-toeing down the corridor, tapping faintly on Amu’s cabin door before the sun had risen or after the moon had sunk - all so secretive and mysterious and so much like him. Even after all the grief their Captain had given him after the first time… 

Oh, yes, Utau knew about that. Ikuto might not have told her what had happened that day she had followed him, limp and bruised, below deck, but she had good ears and a knack for sneaking about the ship unnoticed. Not to mention that she had one or two confidants on board who were more than willing to come and talk to her on those dark, dreaded days when she couldn’t face stepping outside her door. 

But, as Utau watched for now, her mind was suddenly struck blank with the realisation of just what her brother had been doing… And the sudden terror of what the Captain would do if he caught wind of such blatant disregard for his orders so close to his cabin… 

_“What?”_

The whisper - faint and breathy - brought Utau’s attention back to the scene before her. Amu was turning pink again and trying desperately (and pathetically) not to smile. 

_“Ikuto! What?”_

And Utau watched in horror as the Princess - blushing like a foolish schoolgirl - reached out and playfully shoved her brother's arm. _Playfully_ shoved. _Her_ brother - _Ikuto!_

And he _laughed._ He didn’t huff, he didn’t scowl, he didn’t shrug her away just like he did when his own sister tried to tend to his bruises… He _chuckled_ \- a deep, smooth, amused chuckle that shook his very shoulders - and shot her a mischievous glance as he locked her cabin door for the day. 

“You’re so _messy.”_

Suppressed laughter persisted as he watched Amu splutter indignantly, furiously wiping at her mouth again until her lips were red as a freshly-picked rose. “Y-Your bread was too stale!” she countered, dropping her tone and checking her fingers for stray crumbs. “Practically inedible!” 

An exaggerated sigh; “You try keeping bread fresh out at sea, Your Highness,” 

“I’d give it to the gulls if I were you.” 

“You’d give our finest loaves to sea rodents?” 

Amu’s lips twitched, her eyes twinkling impishly. “Now, _Ikuto…”_ Amu said in a tone that Utau didn’t like at all. “Don't be so hard on yourself - I said I’d give you some if you asked for it!” 

And, to Utau’s utter shock, Ikuto leaned forward and bopped her teasingly on the nose, muttering something about punishment for her wise mouth. 

The blonde couldn’t believe it. All she could do was stare, observing open-mouthed, as Amu and Ikuto threw their playful banter back and forth as they turned and made to leave together for their day of work. And, as their silhouettes faded into the daylight and their voices died upon the wind, Utau remained, her eye still pressed to the keyhole, and words completely failed her. Never before had she seen such an exchange. Never before had she seen something so comfortable and calm pass between them. It was relaxed and natural and it had such an air of familiarity about it that Utau stood frozen dumbly against her cabin door. 

She didn’t know what to make of it. She saw them smile and jest - Amu more at first, but then… Then she saw her brother. He was smiling. He was laughing again. There was a new light in Ikuto’s eyes - warm and glowing, full of life again. It was as though he had stepped out of a shadow; as if he’d breached the veil that had always held him back from the world of the living, holding him always just that little bit too far from Utau’s reach, no matter how hard she tried to get through to him… And it was something that Utau hadn’t seen herself for a long, _long_ time. Ikuto had always been… _Reserved._ Ever since they were kids, even and especially before the other crew members. 

And yet here he was, like a changed man (even if he did not realise it himself) even in plain sight of the dark, foreboding doorway that lay just behind him. 

Utau should have been riled. She should have been positively _bristling_ \- snapping and snarling and cursing Her Highness for interfering - for only adding to her ire…

But, for a moment, Utau glanced back over at them. And she thought then that perhaps she half understood. She followed her brother's gaze. Amu was stood in the light of the window at the end of the corridor and her face, bathed in the warmth of a new sunrise, became alight with colour; her pale skin radiant; her hair the colour of roses in the light of the dawn… 

And still Utau stood, fascinated, even as they finally stepped out of sight. The doors at the end of the corridor swung shut behind them and that same light that just a second ago had transformed the stolen Princess fell upon the keyhole, blinding Utau's vision. But she couldn't bring herself to move away. 

The sun was warm that day and something that might have been the faintest beginnings of hope was starting to bloom within her chest. 

~.~.~

“I’m telling you, sir, this passage is fraught with peril! We should be much quicker-” 

“I won’t hear of it! Our very mission is into peril itself! Have you no courage?” 

“But, sir, if we follow our Majesty’s shipping lines-” 

“And _offer_ ourselves up to the enemy? By God, man! That’s a prime pirate’s tactic, that is - to pick off the weak merchants sailing by those passages! Have you gone _mad?”_

An uncharacteristic groan tore itself unbidden from Tadase’s lips, but no one noticed. A world away, bobbing lazily on the tranquil sea, the sunlight poured in through the grand windows of the Captain’s cabin and through the decanter on the table, casting cognac-coloured patterns across Tadase’s map. They danced lazily from side to side, half-heartedly, sluggishly like puppets on broken strings. He watched them sway with partial interest, dragging his tired eyes across the table with them. Behind him, an ornate clock atop a cabinet was chiming twelve. The steadily-building ache was growing in his temples. He sighed, running a hand down his face and desperately tried to push back, drawing his eyes back up to the men around the table. The pain was minor, but he knew not to test it. 

Besides, it was nothing compared to the ache that throbbed in his side. 

It had been a week now since it had happened - since that little skirmish with the unruly sea captain that had left him bedridden for nearly three days. _Three_ days! Three unbearable days of restlessness; of feeling utterly helpless; of being prodded and poked by the ship’s doctor, wrapped in itchy bandages. It had been hellish, but it wouldn’t be enough to stop him, Tadase vowed - not when they were feeling oh-so _close_ to their target. In truth, it had been a push for him to emerge from his cabin these past couple of days. 

But now he was starting to feel the strain of that push weigh down upon him - a heavy burden on his shoulders; on his mind. His thoughts were slow; his wound was beginning to grow uncomfortable again; he felt as though his brain had been submerged beneath the sea, slowly drowning, the water filling his head, groaning under the pressure… 

Tadase tried to scoff at himself. He was a _Commander,_ for God’s sake! He was a naval man hardened by sea salt and foam spray! Toughened by months upon long months of service in honour of His Majesty the King; from bobbing about on oceans furthest from home; through daring combat with the vilest creatures known to scour the face of the earth! 

And yet here he was slumped back in his chair like a rebellious new recruit, barely managing to listen to the other five men gathered round the table, pouring over faded maps and old sea-charts and squabbling like children arguing over a toy. Tadase cast his eyes over what little work these imbeciles had managed in the time he’d been zoned out. Pins and ‘x’s riddled the maps spread about the table, noting the spots where pirate ships had been found and pillaged and left to float - destroyed and still smoking with gunpowder shot. Circles scattered the seas where potential buccan ships had been known to frequent. Similarly, more points were drawn about the coastlines of the many little islands and archipelagos where they knew these rats likes to gather, cowering from storms in caves, hunting like savages. So many markings stood out against the face of these maps - a gigantic, elaborate puzzle which they could not fathom - and suddenly Tadase looked very worn with the knowledge that they had taken on a near-impossible task. Even as he scolded himself for this preposterous thought, a man dressed in the most awful gold-stitched linen leant over and placed yet another ‘x’ on the spot where they had sunk their last pirate sloop. At least thirty more scattered the waters between the country of Seiyo and the continents to the east… 

Yet all had proved useless. Futile. Insignificant in their quest to track down their Princess. 

Tadase looked up from the map, feeling his headache worsen, and cast his eyes over the men as they tried to agree on their next plan of attack. The captain of the Seraphic Charm was currently in a disagreement of sorts with his quartermaster - a short, yet fierce, quick-tempered man who looked far older than his years - whilst the other higher-ups attempted to appease the situation, throwing in all sorts of compromises that went unheeded. 

Suddenly feeling very guilty that he had not been paying attention (for he was the sole organiser of this operation, after all!), Tadase straightened up in his seat, trying to ignore the heat that was starting to swallow his abdomen. He pushed past the pain with difficulty and sheepishly glanced around at his companions. None had noticed that he’d spent the last few minutes in a daze - in a sudden, foggy haze the likes of which had never bothered him before. He didn’t even know how it had happened. One moment he’d been focused and the next… 

“- _crawling_ with buccaneers, Captain!” the quartermaster snapped, waving his hand as if to dismiss whatever had been suggested. “Our task is to merely _seek_ and _locate_ Her Royal Highness; if you decide to start your own personal _war-”_

“Are you even _listening_ to what I’m saying? What I’m _saying_ is that if a pirate has enough bounty, he takes it here!” - and he pointed to a little island off the coast of one of Seiyo’s colonies - “He _shows off_ his prize - gives it to the highest bidder!” 

“Yes, sir, I understand, but Her Highness if not a bounty! They would not sell her! No, they must wish to use Her Royal Highness as some sort of leverage, surely!” 

“But, if so, _where_ is her ransom then, sir?” 

And the argument which had been steadily rising between the two men suddenly descended into an all-out war. The Commander wanted to groan aloud again. Normally he would have yelled - normally his ire would have been as thunderous and disastrous as a tropical storm. He would have cursed their insolence openly and damned their petty arguments and set this whole thing right himself. They should have had their mind firmly set to the task at hand, Tadase would have insisted and he would’ve stood stand and authoritative, taking charge and making their decisions for them because _he_ had brought them here. _He_ had gathered these ships and their crews and he alone had led them in the hunt for his fiancée from the very beginning! Tadase _needed_ to find her. His heart ached with longing each and every single day - from the moment the sun rose in the morning and way past the hour it set at the oncoming of night. He had been as fierce and powerful and determined as he ever thought on this journey… 

And yet, somehow, here all he could find the strength to do was sit and wait in silence, watching as these so-called ‘higher-ups’ squabbled and squawked amongst themselves like buzzards fighting over a scavenged kill. Annoyance rose within him, fiery and firm. This was _no_ way to go about this task. This was _not_ going to save his love. 

This time, Tadase did sigh aloud, but, once more, no one heard him. Their volume was deafening, their voices piercing. Tadase’s skull grew so painful that he feared his head would explode. The room was growing hotter. All of a sudden the temperature was soaring, stifling and sticky, and the Commander broke out into an uncomfortable sweat, though his body shook. 

His head light and his throat dry, Tadase tried one last time to focus on the information spread across the table, but to no avail. He couldn’t bear it. He glanced at the window, towards the calm of the sea, to try and relax. He blinked, but his eyes were growing heavier and heavier…

They drooped once, but somehow (miraculously!) he managed to save himself from collapsing head-first onto the desk. The close call truly shocked him. Suddenly what had been a steady heat in his side was blazing into an inferno, consuming him, and Tadase knew at that moment that he’d made a mistake in braving a day outside his cabin that morning. 

He was in trouble. 

_‘Air,_ ’ Tadase thought - the one word forming clear and solid in his jumbled mind. ‘ _Air,’_

He had to get outside, if just for a moment, for he couldn’t _breathe..._

Just hauling himself up and out of his chair was an effort that made his entire body scream in protest. He stood uneasily, barely registering the deafening shriek of the chair as it slid heavily across the floorboards beneath him. He heard nothing save the heartbeat pounding in his chest and the blood rushing in his ears. Someone's lips moved, their eyes finally falling upon him, but he could not hear them say his name. He couldn't speak; he couldn't move; he couldn't see for the fog that shrouded his vision. 

The haze was too overpowering. 

Tadase didn't even feel his body hit the floor. 

~.~.~


	25. Twenty-five

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

“Ichinomiya…” 

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Dark clouds rolled against the despondent grey of a hopeless dawn. The swell of the sea mingled gradually with the horizon, salty spray choking his crew as they turned their faces to the dreary sky and wondered if in fact they weren’t some sunken ship beneath the tide - wondered if the swelling clouds and the hiss of rain wasn't in fact the underside of gargantuan waves crashing and breaking a thousand leagues above their heads. 

But their Captain paid the gathering squall no heed. Fortune stood resolute beside the helm - silent, unmoving, looking to all his men akin to a gargoyle perched atop a mighty tower, all-seeing and all-knowing. Even as the sky seemed to burst and the the heavens opened, showering the Dark Fortune in an icy rain, he stood there and gazed into the gloom, resolute as a figurehead braves the brunt of the tide. 

_“Ichinomiya…”_ he hissed, coarse and cruel, and he narrowed his eyes in the dim light, though they were as sharp and piercing as a hawk’s and he saw afar all that trailed the horizon. He saw them - though just mere pinpricks in the distance where the sky merged with the stormy sea, he could descry a vessel shivering frantically on the crashing waters. And _there-!_ Just behind! Three more he could spot dancing on tumultuous waves, all of impressive size. Three masts, each like gigantic tree trunks, and sails billowing like clouds of steam. He could imagine those naval men aboard those ships. Drenched and stiff with cold, fighting to bring in the sheets against the gathering wind. He imagined their faces purple with chill with exertion, skull-like, for they were men already dead; the splendour of their colourful uniform washed away and the towering waves slowly gaining… Growing… Tumbling down… Until these men-of-war and noble seamen were washed off the face of the earth and left to founder in the deep. 

But still the war frigates remained, though battered, borne away on untamed waters. Clinging on for dear life, they remained. They weathered the oncoming storm, they persisted like lice on old corsair clothing and they _spread_ \- they gathered and grew and they multiplied in the blink of an eye! And now these seas were _teeming_ with them! Now Fortune and his band of gentlemen huddled and cowered; snuck swiftly by night in waters that were once theirs! Albeit unofficially, but these were _theirs!_ Theirs for the taking and the plunder with it! And yet _here_ they were, tucked away in amongst the outcrops of some uninhabitable, God-forsaken island and praying that they wouldn’t be seen. Though, as it was, this particular hiding spot was proving to be somewhat of a success and Fortune had to thank the sudden change in the weather for the added distraction to the Royal Navy… 

But the fact was that they had not hoisted their anchor for days. They were trapped. Surrounded. Encircled. 

Fortune had almost begun to hope that the King found his daughter just so that these royal pests would leave these parts for good. Oh, he could blow at least one of them out of the water good and proper, for his ship - _his_ glorious, grand Dark Fortune - was, after all, an old war galleon herself… 

But there were so _many_ of them out there! They had changed - they were fiercer now. They were bolder. No longer did they avoid these buccan sea battles they once so feared - they were actively seeking them, hunting their ships, trailing their wake. So many wrecks they had passed, hulls empty and burning, buccan blood spread across their decks… It brought a deadly foreboding over the Captain’s heart. 

All because of one young woman… 

One young woman he wasn’t able to find. 

Fortune growled. Ichinomiya didn’t know what he was messing with. 

_“Liar!”_

Kazuomi’s nonchalance still sprang fresh and stinging in his mind. It was like a stab in the back. His vision clouded, overcome by a pure and deathly rage. 

But then he grinned - a wry, sadistic, malevolent grin. What Captain Ichinomiya didn’t know… Well, it would not work out in his favour. After all, it had been _Fortune’s_ own spy that had notified Kazuomi of her departure from the palace - that had studied her route from the capital and all the way to the Hotori manion on the outskirts of that little coastal town. A treacherous spy that man had been, he now realised - a towering, lumbering, bald brute of a man and as tricksy as they came. And so the Shining Black had gotten there first. But it was no matter. That man was dead and Ichinomiya was soon to follow him. Why Fortune hadn’t just slit the Captain’s throat back on the very deck of his own ship he didn’t know, but now he regretted it deeply. He should have ended this. He should have taken the ship and the crew along with it and stripped the frigate clean in good, old-fashioned pirate style, but _no…_ Now he had a bigger struggle to deal with. 

"Ichinomiya!” he spat to himself; _“Fiendish! Untrustworthy!"_

And again, over and over like a mantra, in time with the _‘pat-pat-pat!’_ of the fat raindrops landing on the bulwark, beneath the roar of sudden thunder. 

"His warning he'll get soon enough… Before he can get her to talk,"

Lightning streaked across the sky and the sails of the naval frigates in the distance gleamed… And, a world away, in a dark, dank cabin where the whiff of rum festered in the air and dust danced in the candlelight, Kazuomi lay on his knees amidst a pool of scattered parchment. Old maps, charts, journal pages, illustrations - all of them paved the floor of the Captain's cabin. The bookshelves stood as looming shadows in the background, bare and empty, black against the walls the the gaping mouths of rocky caves. Leather bindings had been stripped away, piled open at their feet, like dead bats in the dim light, and their innards the Captain rifled through, clinging to each as he clung to the growing desperation in his heart; 

"Must be here must be here must be here-” 

"Must be something must be something-" 

The scattering and fluttering of paper echoed in the dingy cabin as a constant whispering beneath his own obsessive mutterings. And obsessive it was, for with each passing moment Kazuomi could just _feel_ his rival drawing nearer; heard Fortune's grainy voice in his ears: 

_"I'll be seein' you, Ichinomiya…"_

The Captain's blood was frozen stiff in his veins. 

_"I'll be seein' you."_

Kazuomi knew and, though he could not see the man aboard his ship as he stared into the distance, he understood… 

He understood that Fortune would be coming back. That his time was running out. 

He was coming back for his prize. 

No... No, no - not _his_ prize, Kazuomi reminded himself. Not _Fortune's_ prize… 

The pages in his hands fluttered as moths against the candlelight, the book settling open in his palms. There, faint and scratchy against the parchment, was roughly etched that Key he so sought... The Key he would keep his hostage alive for, for she _must_ have known-

_"Must be here must be here-"_

_"There must be something must be SOMETHING-!"_

And there, page after page after page, they were drawn, taunting him; mocking him; sneering at him. Waves broke on the hull of the ship, the sea spray hissing and in his mind they became creatures in the shadows; disembodied voices issuing heavy breaths, full of mirth at his suffering. His struggles amused them - amused Fortune - and all the while the scratchings on the pages taunted him, springing out before the dust on the paper had even settled. Locks and Keys and age-old pirate codes leapt at him from every corner - from every inch of parchment until there it was, at the very end, drawn in ink, far bolder than the others… 

An old, battered sea chest. 

Kazuomi's murmurings ceased. His breath shuddered, head spinning. 

This Treasure would fall into his hands and his alone. No one had ever given as much as he had for it. And, as far as he was concerned, no one ever would… 

~.~.~

It had been days since the Captain had last come out onto the deck. It had been a little over a week since their encounter with Fortune; a week since the uncovering of the Humpty Lock; since Amu had found herself pinned to the mast by the Captain's cutlass and still… He had not come out. 

But still Amu felt he was watching. _Always_ watching. Stalking. Waiting. He was biding his time slowly, Amu knew it, and to say that this latest turn of events had worried her would be an understatement. He _knew_ she was lying. That she didn't even have to question, for of _course_ he knew and still he brooded in the gloom of his cabin. That place had become far darker and more sinister than Amu had ever known. Not even the strongest sunbeam reflecting off calm waters could penetrate the blackened heart of the Shining Black anymore. Tension was thick in the air. Men walked as if on eggshells… No - they tip-toed as if on broken glass, for one wrong move and the Captain’s brutes would be upon them, menacing and overbearing. Even Kukai had had less spring in his step and less sun in his smile since those big, bulging brutes appeared to have awakened. Amu caught them watching her as often as ever before. She kept her head down and stayed silently in Ikuto’s shadow, for his presence had grown to be the most comforting feeling she’d ever known. And, so far, they hadn’t bothered her whilst he was around.

Something had overcome the Captain, the crewmates said. Whispers were whistling to Amu’s ears, rumours flying, yet hushed and cautious whenever Kazuomi’s men were scarce. And they all said the same thing. They all said that the Captain had been overcome by something dark - by some sort of madness; some sort of _lunacy._ Something twisted and obsessive had engulfed Kazuomi’s already black and sordid heart and now he stayed confined like a caged animal in his cabin, pacing back and forth like a tiger, howling like a wolf in madness. The only one who had the so-called 'privilege' to enter that room was Ikuto who had become rushed off his feet delivering bottle after bottle, tankard after tankard of brandy or rum or wine… Whatever he could get his hands on, Kazuomi wanted it. Ikuto would emerge from the hold, enter the Captain's cabin - now even darker and danker and more oppressive than it had ever been, apparently - and silently place whatever drink he'd brought on the nearest available surface before backing out, not even stopping for acknowledgement, and waiting for the next half hour or so to get to it once more. 

These rumours of madness were said to be true, of course, by none other than Ikuto himself. He reported (and Amu was honestly a little surprised to learn just how much confidence the crew held in him) that whatever Kazuomi was doing in there was unknown even to him. The Captain just wouldn't talk. He wouldn't explain. He would look up occasionally whenever his stepson entered the room and, even rarer, demand more to drink in a hushed, distracted voice, laced thick with ale. 

Although, it had been whispered by several of crew members, that there was something big going on in that cabin - something dark and dangerous and unknown. The crew was even too distracted by it to tackle Amu over the issue of the Humpty Lock (in fact, some of them had warmed to her considerably, appearing to be in awe of her ‘expert’ attempt to conceal it from the Captain). No, there were far more mysterious, more pressing things going on. The brutes were acting oddly, Kukai thought. They had started getting up earliest, staying on deck latest. He said he'd heard their heavy boots on the planks updeck far past midnight. 

"I suspect Captain's doing a lot more talking after hours," Kukai stressed, scampering after Ikuto as he made his way down into the galley, two empty goblets in his hands both waiting to be filled at his stepfather's drunken request. "Those big burly blokes - they've been in his cabin after dark, I swear by it! They're like - they're like some sort of _allies_ of his or somethin'!" 

A weariness overcame Ikuto's looks. He lifted the tap on the keg of rum as if it held the greatest weight in the world. "That's exactly what they are, Kukai." he remarked drily. 

Kukai just shrugged. "Well, that don't shock me much, but, I tell you, there's a mighty big tension about them now. It's like they're waiting for something - waiting for Captain to _do_ something. I dunno… They just," he scratched the back of his scruffy head, scrunching his nose up in thought; "they just feel like _dogs_ to me - you know, the race dogs? They sit at the gates on the track all hunched over, all coiled up an’ ready to spring..." 

Ikuto shook his head and moved on to the next goblet. "I don't know what's going on in there any more than the rest of us do." 

That knowledge truly did worry Kukai, but he didn’t mention it. There was no need. Every man felt it. 

"You think he'll take it out on Amu bad if he doesn't get his treasure?" he asked, somewhat tentatively, for, even if he hadn't been concerned himself, even he was not blind to the way those two had grown so comfortable together. 

The flow of rum stopped midway. 

Kukai hesitated; "That's what this is all for, right?" 

Ikuto just looked down into the cup in his hand, watching the intoxicating liquid swish round silently in its silver depths. He wondered briefly how hard it would be to get his hands on something sinister - on some sort of powder or plant or a poison that would render his stepfather defenceless, at the mercy of the oncoming shadow of death. His fingers clenched around it until his knuckles turned white. Something was tightening in his chest. 

"I don't know anymore, Kukai…" 

A pause followed. Ikuto filled both goblets in silence. 

Then Kukai sighed deeply. When he spoke the lightness of his tone was so forced that it was almost laughable; "Well, looks like somethin's gotta give, though, before the rum runs dry." 

A humourless laugh left Ikuto’s lips, 

"I hope he drinks himself to death." 

And Kukai had to agree. In fact, so did nearly every man aboard the Shining Black. It had been wondered fleetingly if for some inconceivable reason Kazuomi was _trying_ to destroy them all, floating aimlessly, bare and vulnerable and defenceless against any naval craft or rival crew they came across. Resentment had weeded its way into their hearts like never before. They laughed less frequently; sung less freely; the standard way of communication aboard the deck had been reduced to whispers, breathing in hushed tones. Amu wondered whether, if not for the iron grip of the brutes, this crew would have formed a mutiny by now. 

She shivered despite the warm breeze and shifted closer to Ikuto who had stood by her resolutely as he accompanied her across the deck. She was grateful to him beyond words. She didn’t want to be left alone for a second - not with those burly men watching her every move. Even Ikuto was tense under their gaze. 

“Come on,” he whispered in her ear, leading her away. With every step she could feel the heat of their gaze lessening. It was a blessing! 

All in all, Amu was well and truly relieved to be done for the afternoon. In the light of day the crew became more amiable and the heaviness in the air seemed to lessen, if only by the slightest, but the sun was setting now, melting into the sea on the horizon and sinking into the deep. The light was fading and in the dark whispers died and a silence fell upon the wary sailors, the shadows growing darker, much deeper than ever before. Foul things lurked in there - things of malice with black hearts and empty souls, marching their way to the Captain’s door. Ikuto did not visit her at night anymore. No one dared leave their beds whilst these monsters crept about the deck. 

Amu shook the thought away. Once she and Ikuto were stood in the relative safety of the corridor, she frowned. 

“Ikuto?” 

“Mm?” 

Amu’s eyes flickered briefly over to the padlocked door at the end of the passageway. “He knows, doesn’t he?” 

Ikuto, who had been separating out his keys in search of the correct one, paused abruptly. Blue eyes darted over towards her. When he didn’t speak, Amu elaborated; 

“The Key,” she gulped; “He knows. He _knows_ that I know…” 

At this, Ikuto lowered his keys, sighing the most defeated sigh she’d ever heard. “I don’t think he knows,” he said, although for once his words were of no comfort to her. “He hasn’t asked for you…” 

It was a weak argument - as flimsy as parchment, as pathetic as a candle in the wind. Amu shook her head. “I just don’t understand why he hasn’t killed me yet…” 

That statement tore at Ikuto’s heart more than anything else. He could not imagine it - didn’t _want_ to imagine such a brutal end for such a compassionate woman. The very notion crushed something deep inside; had his body paralysed. 

“I…” he considered his next words very carefully. “I think he believes that you may still be of use. For what I cannot say.” 

Amu shuddered violently. A wave of repulsion overcame her, her skin crawling. It utterly disgusted her to contemplate all the possible things he might keep her for. Utau’s lilac eyes flashed in her mind. No one deserved such a fate. 

“I wouldn’t dwell on it,” Ikuto said then, his tone so straightforward that she frowned, confused. “Who knows,” he went on; “maybe the drink will do him good.” 

And he smirked so roguishly that the Princess almost laughed aloud. It was pretty common knowledge amongst the honest members of the crew by now that there had been a running betting pool over how long it would take for the Captain to drink himself into an early grave. Normally Amu would never have found amusement in such a morbid thing, but this man would likely lead them all to their dooms if the rum didn’t do him in first. 

_“Ikuto!”_ she scolded him anyway, lightly slapping his arm, though her tone only made the spark in his eyes brighten. “Such a _suggestion!”_

Ikuto began to chuckle, low and silky smooth, swinging the hoop of his keys casually round his finger. Amu couldn’t help but smile. He had a habit of doing that as he walked her to her cabin, she’d noticed - the same way she’d noticed that his shoulders always grew less tense; his breath more steady; his steps lighter. It was as if all his worries briefly left him, blissful and peaceful, during those few minutes they stood alone together in this little corridor. Despite the uneasy atmosphere about the deck; despite the ever-constant presence of the Captain just behind that padlocked door; despite the futility of their lives aboard the Shining Black… Amu felt it too. Her heart was starting to skip, her stomach fluttering. 

Ikuto was still swinging the hoop on his finger. “Well,” he purred; “can’t blame me. _I’m_ not the one who started the bet.” 

“You are a ruffian and a scoundrel and you should be ashamed!” she countered in the most falsely condescending tone she could muster - the sort of formal tone she was raised to use behind the palace walls; the same sort of tone she’d learnt could make him laugh. His amusement was only broken by the jingling of keys. 

“I’m _wounded,”_

“And serves you right!” Amu smirked - the perfect mirror image of his own - and folded her arms haughtily across her chest. “Now come on, I haven’t got all night!” 

“So demanding…” Ikuto muttered, but he did as asked nonetheless. “So unladylike.” 

Amu gave him an over-exaggerated shrug and a somewhat coy look. He raised an eyebrow and she revelled in the satisfaction as she strode confidently into her cabin. “And still more civilised than the lot of you,” she remarked. “Perhaps I should teach you a thing or two.” 

A dangerous sort of hum rumbled through Ikuto’s chest - the sort that signalled trouble; that was somehow more devious and playful than any smirk he’d ever given her. It was the sort of sound that had her skin break out in goosebumps, sending tingles down her spine. Amu’s breath caught in her throat. 

“I think I’d _like_ that,” Ikuto drawled, his voice smooth as silk and a twinkle in his eye that was somehow so suggestive that Amu’s cheeks were alight in seconds. It was times like this that she thought she could almost _feel_ some sort of spark between them - that she thought she could sense his heart hammering just as hers, pounding away in her chest... 

But was it even so? Was she merely getting carried away? This was a situation Amu had never been in before and though she would admit that she’d spent the last few nights laying awake trying to figure it out, no matter what way she looked at it… Well, it was confusing, not to mention dispiriting. If Ikuto had never felt it too then Amu would feel downright foolish for getting so caught up in it. 

“Goodnight, Ikuto,” Amu said pointedly, pushing the thought away and trying to sound as breezy as she did every night. She turned back to face the doorway. “Please, _do_ knock when you come for me tomorrow morning, unless of course you’d like to find yourself overboard by sunrise.” 

Ikuto looked as though he was pretending to consider this. “No promises.” he said, failing not to smirk. Amu’s eye twitched. It was a warning sign if he’d ever seen one and, needless to say, he backed away pretty quickly, adding in before she could explode at him; “Goodnight, Princess.” 

_“Hey-! You get back here-!”_

And with that the door clicked shut and Amu found herself up against a solid, wooden barrier. Face burning and ears steaming, she beat a single fist upon the door in defiance. _“Idiot.”_

Whether he had heard her or not, Amu could have sworn that that delightful chuckle was ringing in her ears. She narrowed her eyebrows, folding her arms as she glared in his general direction. 

“Honestly…” she scowled. “What a nuisance.” 

Or so she said, yet there was no bite in her tone - no contempt nor disgust nor even annoyance anymore… 

Outside, Amu could still hear the keys jingling, probably still swinging from his fingertips. 

_‘Damn him,’_ she thought to herself, for she found herself smiling fondly again despite her irritation. Amu leant her head against the grain of the wood, her ear pressed up against the crack in the doorframe. It was steady and constant as his footsteps faded towards the edge of the doorway - light and carefree and somehow so out of place on a ship like this… 

And then, all of a sudden, there was silence. She heard a chink - that little clash of metal upon metal that sounded whenever Ikuto gripped his keys, cutting them off mid-swing. Amu frowned, but she could barely hear any other sound. Suddenly panic overcame her. Was it the Captain at the end of the hallway? Had he come out? Was he summoning his stepson over - demanding drink or… Or worse? 

No… No, Amu decided. She would have heard him clearer than anything. The thundering of heavy boots were unmistakable - unsteady and irregular as he staggered, they would have met her ears over all else. Curious, she leant in closer, her ears straining, desperate to detect any sense of movement. Once, twice, three times his boots resounded at the end of the corridor - at the end closest to the Captain’s, she noted, but though Amu frowned and squeezed her eyes shut in concentration she couldn’t figure out what on earth… 

And then she heard it. A sniffle. A whimpering - a choking. 

It was fainter than a breeze on a summer’s day; than the rustling of leaves in the autumn; subtler than the breath of the sea. But it was there. And, now that Amu heard it, it grew to be the loudest thing she’d ever heard - the loudest and by far the most pitiful. It was a woman, she decided; that much was obvious. A woman in tears, whimpering and moaning and- 

_‘Oh…’_

And then, suddenly, Amu thought she understood. 

_‘Oh no…’_

Blonde hair and purple eyes appeared bright and vivid in Amu’s mind and her heart sank - sank straight through her chest and down through her stomach, right down to the very depths of the sea beneath their ship. Her cheerful mood shattered and her chest heavy with grief, Amu shook her head and despaired; “Oh, _Utau…”_

Amu felt like weeping with her. She felt like succumbing to the fading light and the tension about the deck and allowing herself to sob along with this woman’s cries, for it was so sorrowful - so heart-wrenching - that it pained her to hear. 

Amidst the heartbreak, a sigh met her ears - Ikuto’s. It was oh-so slight, but Amu heard it - weary and hushed and heavy as any she’d ever heard. 

_‘Kazuomi,’_ she realised with a sudden flare of resentment. Her very body seethed at the realisation. 

Had this man not wrought enough havoc on the Tsukiyomi’s lives already? Had he not weathered down his step-children to his liking by now? What had he done this time to supposedly ‘reassert’ his hold on their fate - to keep them chained forever within an arm’s length, no matter how they struggled? 

But, after all, that was the way of life upon this ship. This ship and it’s Captain were a shadow cast across the hearts of all who sailed her, for there was never truly any respite. There was never a ray of sunshine through the stormy clouds; there was never a bright day nor a silver lining; never a single sign of escape in sight. That was how this ship worked. That was how _Kazuomi’s_ tricks worked - they crept upon you when you were least expecting them. They weeded their way into your spirit just when you thought that all had passed; when your back was turned and your guard down. Even when only moments ago when Amu had stood outside and laughed and teased and felt so secure in Ikuto’s presence… Even then it was not enough. Because the darkness would always return. Kazuomi was always there - a constant reminder; a torment. 

And those heart-wrenching sobs were but a single reminder of the malice that lurked in the shadows. So heartfelt and sudden they were that Amu was quickly overwhelmed with sorrow, rent with pity, for every time she thought she had seen enough of the Captain’s devilry for herself, something more would shock her. Once again (and not for the last time) a burning injustice coursed through her veins. They didn't deserve it, she thought. In her head, she pictured them. She pictured Utau, so fierce and resilient, reduced to naught but a mess of tears. She pictured Ikuto - oh, she pictured him in so many ways. In her head she saw him limping across the deck of the ship; she saw him bruised and bloodied and lifeless; she remembered that night he had spent with her in her cabin and she recalled the dull, distant shadow in his eyes - how beaten down his spirit had been… 

And Amu had realised that night that if Ikuto wouldn’t allow himself to weep, then she couldn’t help but do it for him. Injustice burned within her chest - burning until her vision swam with red, until her eyes began to sting and her knuckles whitened; 

_‘They don't deserve it..!’_

And, needless to say, Amu found herself sat there, slumped against her door long throughout the night - even after Utau herself had stopped; even after Ikuto had since departed; even once the moon had risen high into the midnight sky, Amu remained, unmoving, counting the fall of her tears. 

~.~.~


	26. Twenty-six

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

The day was piercing. The sun - it blinded him! It reigned down from the heavens like fire on the back of his neck, scorching his skin, causing a harsh turmoil throughout his already worn and weathered skull… Really, had it ever been so bright? Had it ever felt as much a burden upon him before as it did that morning? 

Tadase let out a heavy groan despite himself and drew a sweaty palm across his forehead. At this point, he could not tell whether the sun was getting to him out here or not, for he had lain in a relentless state of hot and cold for days now. He leant unsteadily against the rail beside helm, suppressing a particularly violent bout of shivers, yet he refused to admit that he had taken on too much in reemerging from his cabin that day. Even now he had stood beside the helmsman for barely ten minutes and already he could barely wait to retreat - to head back inside and revel in the cool shade of his cabin; to fall comatose against the soft linen of his bed; to soothe and placate the crying protests of his sorry body amongst soft pillows and cushy bedsheets. 

But despite all this the Commander was still thoroughly stuck in his state of denial. It had been merely two days - _two days_ \- since the unfortunate turn in his health and, as it was, even those two days of bedrest; of the doctor’s fussy treatment; of laying feverish in his closed-off cabin, unable to move and at the mercy of the infection that wracked throughout his torso, had not been enough to convince him that he was well and truly unfit for duty, much to the exasperation of his colleagues. They all had the underlying impression that the Commander just did not care. But, Tadase thought, how could he care about anything else? How could he care to turn his attention to anything but the task at hand? Besides, those two days of immobility - such precious, crucial days - had slipped by, disappearing into the tide never to return. Two days had been completely, utterly _wasted_ and at this point Tadase wanted with all his might to tear up that blundering idiot he called a Captain. He had been down and out of action barely even half a week and their mission had more or less ground to a halt! Yes, of course, plenty of naval ships still stalked the waters for the ship and woman they sought, but it seemed that the Captain of the Seraphic Charm was either uneager or unwilling to carry on without the aid of the Commander himself. 

What a spineless, pathetic excuse of a man that Captain was, Tadase thought, exasperated beyond belief. A useless man indeed. What of loyalty? What of determination? Of patriotism and camaraderie and soldiering on despite the oncoming tide? Did the man not even _think_ to turn his thoughts to Her Highness who still with every passing second awaited rescue? Did he not consider his duty to the King? 

Tadase felt his temperature rising - slow and steady, yet stifling and unbearable. His vision was swaying. He shook his head in defeat. This ire would not help his health, that was for certain. He might have been able to rest easy knowing that this task lay in capable hands - had he enough faith in his men and Captain to continue their search even whilst he lay sore and bedridden… But apparently not. Apparently that was too much to ask. Obviously, he thought, he was required to take matters into his own hands. 

He eventually straightened up, switching to lean on his staff. Bent at the waist and shaking, the cut of the fine crystal atop its hilt dug painfully into his palms, but he paid it no attention. The helmsman looked after him hopelessly, watching with a frown as the Commander uneasily staggered off down the companionway, but the man pushed on, heading for the Captain’s cabin, for he had every intention of marching in right then and there and reaffirming the imbecile of the true importance of their endeavour. The man needed to be truly reminded of his purpose and pride or else all would be for nothing. 

And all might have been already lost… 

But Tadase could not allow that to happen. Not for anything. Not even for the raging inferno that crippled his side with every step he took towards the Captain’s quarters. 

When Tadase reached that cabin door - struck with a gold plaque bearing the Captain’s name, intricately carved with depictions of ancient sea battled - it was already inched open. Through the crack in the door, Tadase, even with the pounding in his own head, could make out whispers, hushed and cautious. Something uneasy stirred in his gut, nagging away at the back of his drowsy brain. 

For a moment Tadase thought that he was perhaps delusional. He thought that perhaps this infernal fever had wrought such havoc upon his weary mind that he must have been delirious again. He _must_ have been unwell, he thought (for the first time, at last!), for such a sense of danger to spring upon him out of nowhere; for the very walls to be whispering; for the shadows to somehow seem sentient. In fact, Tadase was still battling himself over this notion when the door swung open, the sunlight pouring in through the windows beyond pouring onto his face, the glare painful in his eyes. But when his vision had cleared and the ache had settled, the Commander found himself stood before the ship’s doctor - a scrawny, stubborn little man with tiny, round spectacles and the most extravagant powdered wig he had ever seen. He was possibly the most disliked man on this entire ship. He was particularly _‘outspoken’_ , as the Captain had once politely put it, and had an unfortunate tendency to poke his beaky nose into places it didn’t belong. Tadase looked down upon the man with slight disdain (though he was still too polite to show it) as the doctor strained a smile at him. 

“Ah, Commander!” the doctor said, somehow inappropriately chipper. “How are we today, sir?” 

The jibe at his health was so plain that Tadase could not find the strength in him to respond. It was only a matter of time before the man decided to launch himself into a lecture over his health, after all, and remind him that, strictly speaking, he was still not permitted to be out of bed. He tried not to lean on his staff too obviously as he replied; 

“Good morning.” 

“Yes,” the doctor mused; “yes, it is. But, more to the point, I’ve been meaning to-” 

“I’ve a word to have with our Captain.” Tadase cut in, sensing that a scolding over his ill health was about to come. He stared past the man’s shoulder and over at the lavish cabin behind them. “I shall have to talk to you some other time-” 

“Oh,” the doctor interrupted; “no need, Commander.” And he stepped aside, clearing the cabin doorway so that Tadase could see straight through to where the Captain sat behind his grand desk. His expression was unusually stony and resolute. The nagging in Tadase’s brain persisted. All of a sudden he felt as though he were nothing more than a fox cornered by hunting dogs. A great unease settled between them. 

“We were just about to call for you.” the Captain said, his expression unreadable. “Please, Commander,” - and he gestured to the seat before him - “do come in.” 

And, just like that, the doctor was ushering him into the cabin. 

Immediately Tadase could tell that something was definitely amiss. It was an additional sense he had picked up through all his years of loyal service; through all the battles he had faced; through each and every voyage he had so boldly undertaken. It was palpable to him by now - he could feel the heaviness in the air; he could feel the tension in the room crackle like the air before a thunderstorm. It was like stepping into the calm of a storm and all he could do was frown, stepping into the lion’s den with a great sense of caution and closing the door behind him. The room was deathly silent - the subtle click of the latch as it slid shut felt like the most deafening sound in existence. And now he was trapped. He swallowed thickly, sensing that something with gravity was to come. 

“Well,” Tadase began with such a false air of non-committance that the men before him shifted uneasily; “it would appear that the two of you have been conspiring.” He said. His staff fell muffled on the ornate rug beneath his feet. The doctor swooped in and attempted to help him walk, but he brushed him off. “Tell me, what is the issue?” 

There was a pause. The doctor and the Captain exchanged a look that Tadase didn’t like one bit. The two of them had never been the thickest of thieves. For heaven’s sake, they would have been at each other’s throats by now! Neither could stand to be in the same room as the other for more than a few minutes and yet here… Here they shared, as Tadase had suggested, quite conspiratorial glances. There was a silent conversation going on between the two so plain and obvious that the Commander was totally at a loss. He folded his arms across his chest, ignoring the protest of his wounded side, and sat down heavily in the chair across the desk. 

“Oh dear,” he said. “Something pressing, no doubt?” 

“Commander,” the doctor began and it was a warning sign if Tadase had ever seen one. When something brusque and brazen needed to be announced then ‘look no further than the Seraphic Charm’s surgeon’, as the Captain himself had once said. “Commander, the Captain here is well aware of your situation.” He paused and Tadase raised a questioning eyebrow, but otherwise nodded, prompting him to continue. “Your fever has risen, despite my best efforts, sir. Your strength is weakening… I grow to fear that, unless a proper hospital bed is laid out for you, you may succumb completely to the infection in your wound. This is a life-threatening injury, my man, if ever I’ve seen one-”

Tadase sighed loudly, effectively cutting off the infuriating flow of words from the doctor’s mouth. “Tell me something I don’t know,” he said drily; “but it is no matter. In fact, I came here to speak with you, Captain, under the impression that I may be on bedrest for some time throughout our voyage. Sir,” he said and his voice was so firm and unfaltering that it was almost hard to believe that this was a gravely injured man with such fire behind his gaze; “I _urge_ you - this mission must continue! You have slacked since I’ve been out of action like nothing I’ve ever seen! It is _unacceptable!”_

“What is _unacceptable,_ ” the Captain began patiently; “is for myself and the rest of our men to sit back and allow you to wither before our very eyes! Commander, for you to ignore our physician’s advice is one thing, but-” 

_“But!”_ the doctor cut in, ignoring the pointed glare from his superior and leaning in so close that Tadase could smell the dusty powder in his wig and the revolting perfume about his cheeks. “But, Commander, it appears that our Captain here has more intelligence than _you_ do when it comes to your own health! And, as such, he - well, _we,_ with my advice that is - have decided that our best course of action thus far would be to return to Seiyo, sir, until such a time that I deem you fully recovered and fit to journey again.” 

A silence fell. Tadase’s heart missed a beat. He opened his mouth- 

“Commander,” 

-only to close it again, for words utterly escaped him. 

“As it is, sir,” the infuriating man continued, blabbering on, completely unaware of the sweat that had broken out across the Commander’s forehead or the colour that had drained from his face; “we should be due to head back to shore within the next month or so regardless. Never mind the condition of your health - we risk running low on several stocks of our supplies. I shan’t have our men overridden with scurvy now just because _someone_ was too stubborn to-” 

And then it hit him - hard and sudden. 

“Back?” 

The word was faint - but a breath on Tadase’s lips. He stared off into the distance, his eyes far-off and clouded. 

A delusion it must have been - a fever-fuelled hallucination. He couldn’t have been here before them, facing this sudden turn. Yes, he must have been safely tucked back in bed, slowly recovering, his mind running amok with wild nightmares… 

“Commander Hotori, please understand. Why, if I were to allow you to die of such a treatable infection under _my_ watch, well, then I-” 

A single, piercing glare cut the doctor right off. The man fell silent, his obnoxiously large mouth pursed into a tiny, white line. 

Betrayal. That’s all the Commander felt as he glowered, burning and furious, at the infernal physician. 

Did the man not understand? Did he not _realise?_

Tadase’s mind was reeling now. The weight of all that was happening seemed to crash over his shoulders like the incoming tide, dragging him down as an anchor underwater, drowning him. Images of himself laying helpless and bedridden at home on dry land flashed through his mind and a sudden, blood-chilling _fear_ gripped at his heart. He would be powerless. Utterly useless - unable to do but a single thing whilst Amu was out there, alone and afraid - _trapped! The captive of pirates..!_

_“But I have to find her!”_

The words burst from his lips as lead from a gun, but he didn’t register saying them. His vision was swimming, his heart pounding, the panic overwhelming; _“I need to find her!”_

Faintly, Tadase felt the doctor’s hands on his shoulders, though he couldn’t remember standing. All was a blur - all was dizzying and distant until the Captain finally rose; _“Commander!”_ the stern voice of that useless man barked, but, too caught up in his own deliria, Tadase felt none of its bite. “Will you _control yourself!”_

_“You!”_ Tadase snarled, whirling to face him, his staff clattering noisily to the floor. Before he even knew what he was doing, his hands had found the Captain’s collar (though he couldn’t exactly recall when the man had appeared beside him) and he had shoved the man back against the surface of the desk, growling, his gaze deadly as ruby red morphed into a morbid, bloody crimson. “Have you no _loyalty?”_ he spat. _“Have you no care for her?”_

But, as his knuckles turned white and the haze of red clouded all rational thought, only emptiness filled his heart as the man replied, calm and steady; 

“I have care for _you,_ Commander.” the Captain said and he took Tadase’s hands in his and gently released himself from his grasp, sighing; “You are of no use to her here.” 

Grip loosening, vision fading, Tadase stumbled back into his chair. Defeated as a soldier in battle he fell, unable to regain his balance. He ached again. His forehead was sweaty and feverish. His staff glittered blue on the floorboards beside him, as blue as the sky of a summer's day... 

And yet all he saw when he closed his eyes was that shade of pastel pink that so haunted his dreams... That remained forever just out of reach. 

~.~.~

When Ikuto found himself faced with the Princess that morning, he was almost worried that she had succumbed to the horrors of scurvy again. And as if that thought didn’t frighten him enough - as if that very notion wasn’t enough to chill him to the core; to shake his spirit and leave him bare and vulnerable to the shadows that still lurked within his memory - he watched, stricken, as the pink-haired woman hauled herself out of bed, looking as though just the effort of standing was a difficulty, and immediately alarm bells were ringing shrilly in his head. 

Amu’s face was pale and her eyes dull, remote and dim despite the early morning sunlight that drenched the little cabin. Her lips twitched in what might have been a half-hearted smile as he entered, but it was quickly gone, replaced by only a dull recognition as she made for the pitiful serving of tack he’d placed on the table for her. 

His body tense, Ikuto studied the warning signs and frowned; “Amu?” 

But at the uncertainty in his voice, the Princess seemed to come back to herself. Something that might have been remorse passed over her face, but it was gone so quickly that Ikuto barely had any time to acknowledge it. Amu just forced a particularly weak smile - one that lacked all the warmth and cheer and optimism that he had grown so used to - and shook her head as lightly as she could. 

“I wouldn’t worry, Ikuto.” she said, already sensing the question at the tip of his tongue. “I’m fine.”

And, when it was time for work, she slid so tentatively past him and tip-toed so gently into the corridor that Ikuto had to stop and stare, so taken aback he was at this perplexing behaviour. He regarded her carefully as he locked the cabin door behind them. Her brows just noticeably narrowed and visibly antsy, Amu glanced fleetingly down the corridor. When it was time to get going, she inexplicably summoned up what last of her energy she had left and rushed past him, a mere blur of pastel pink, and was out on deck faster than he could believe. 

Stumped, Ikuto was left in the dust for a minute or so before he managed to follow after her. He caught up with her on the aftercastle and stopped her in her tracks. 

“Amu,” Ikuto tried again. A sense of dread had begun to pool in the pit of his stomach, stirring like the limbs of some restless creature in his gut, for it had been only last night that she had joked with him; smiled at him; even teased him… And yet now she appeared as dull and spent as a burnt-out coal. Faintly he wondered if that was how _he_ had looked, wandering lifelessly, trapped in an endless mist on this ship for the better part of ten, long years. 

_‘Oh God…’_ Ikuto thought to himself. It couldn’t happen to her too. 

“Amu are you fit to work today?” 

That had her attention. It was a question that had never been asked of Amu before. She had spent long enough aboard this ship now for her to realise that a man worked until he physically fell. No matter what ailment afflicted him, he would continue to rise with the dawn and weather the starless nights until his own body forbade him from rising again. Only the other week one crewmate had been dislodged from the ratlines whilst skirting a particularly fierce storm and had broken his leg in the fall. Yet Amu glanced over her shoulder now and saw that very same man put to work on cleaning duty, sitting awkwardly with his leg spread before him, straining to swab the decks clean. To these men, a dilapidating injury meant no less than a limb being blown off. Hell, even when she herself had been overridden with that dreaded sailor’s disease she had emerged from her cabin every single day, forced to grit her teeth and bear the brunt of the pain as her skin bled and sores split. 

And so this was a question unexpected enough to draw Amu back to earth, if only for the briefest of seconds. She blinked in surprise, speechless for a moment. 

Then her eyes softened and the tiniest hint of warmth lit up her face at his concern. “Of course, Ikuto,” she said, smiling as reassuringly as she could, for Ikuto’s own troubles were too great for her to add to them. “Don’t worry.” 

Unconvinced, but with nothing to counter her with, Ikuto was forced to cave. He nodded wordlessly and let her go, sneaking cautious glances after her as she went. But, though they were separated for most of the day, that encounter remained fresh in his memory. In the dark of the hold he saw bright flashes of pink; in the sun on the water he saw glorious gold - it was forever nagging in the back of his head. It set his teeth on edge; it drew him from his chores; it irked him throughout the entirety of his long, restless day because there was just _something_ about the look in Amu’s eyes that had him in despair. 

So, obviously, Ikuto was thoroughly irritated when he found her much the same way when he came to lead her in for the night. And the next morning. And the one after that… And the one after _that._

If anything, Amu only grew quieter. There was less bite in her banter. Her smiles grew colder, less genuine and she grew easily distracted, lost in whatever thoughts he had no idea. Ikuto had tried to be patient. He had _tried_ to keep his lips sealed firmly shut - to stay silent and hope that if he allowed Amu to mull over whatever troublesome thoughts were occupying her head, then perhaps she would come out the other side relatively unscathed herself. That was how Utau often worked on her bad patches, after all… But still it was weighing on his mind more heavily than anything else - heavier even than the tension that had settled amongst the crew; heavier than the weight of the Key in his pocket; more pressing than the sudden, disturbing turn in his father’s behaviour. 

Ikuto didn’t know how to deal with it. He had tried to be as considerate as he could. He allowed her extra time in the mornings; he motioned Kukai to work with her during the day, for he knew that he was now a close friend of hers; Ikuto snuck extra fruit into her meagre rations (which, of course, he had increased himself, unbeknownst to the Captain) just in case she was starting to feel the lethargy of that dreaded sailor’s ailment again. But by the fourth night of this inexplicable depression (though Ikuto used the word carefully, for he truly hoped it was nothing quite so distressing) he came to the conclusion that he just couldn’t take it any longer. 

Honestly, Ikuto could have laughed at himself. He knew that Amu had occupied his mind more or less permanently ever since she arrived on this ship… But _this_ was ridiculous. 

But, nonetheless, it was that fourth night that Ikuto finally found the courage - that his patience finally wore thin enough for him to stop her outside her cabin door. Night was falling fast and foreboding. The was moon hung obscured by thick cloud. Before now he had planned to retreat down below as fast as possible before Kazuomi’s henchmen could begin to stalk the decks for the night watch… But right now Ikuto wasn’t sure he cared anymore. One look at the Princess’ jaded expression was enough for him and it was then that he intercepted her just before she could disappear into her cabin, blocking the doorway with his own body and leaning down, blue eyes gazing intently into misty gold. 

“I-Ikuto?” It was perhaps the clearest thing Amu had said all day as she finally snapped out of whatever had taken ahold of her, narrowing her pretty eyes at him. “W-What are you doing?” 

Ikuto just raised a finger and effectively shushed her. He thought for a moment, considering carefully how best to bring up the topic on his mind. After a short while, he swallowed; 

“I told you everything, Amu.” 

Amu looked perplexed. “W-What?” 

“I know you're trying to act as if nothing’s wrong,” Ikuto said. He shifted somewhat uneasily in the doorway, but his gaze was as steady and all-knowing as ever. “Don't think I didn't notice.” At this, Amu's eyes widened a fraction. She shrunk visibly, looking torn. Ikuto resigned himself, smiling faintly. “I told you everything that was on my mind that night.” He said. “This works both ways, Amu.” 

For some reason she couldn’t understand, Amu felt wracked with guilt. Her gaze fell to the floor. 

“Amu…” 

Amu only caught his eye briefly, but it was enough to make her heart plummet. Amu felt as though she could barely look him in the eyes - as though she somehow didn’t have the right. 

Oh, what a fool she had been. How naïve of her to disregard that concern in his eyes - a concern that had saved her skin on this ship more times than she could count. If not for that concern she would have been long dead by now, wrought by disease, bleeding out on the floor of her cabin. For a moment, Amu found herself once more back in the light of that drowsy morning - back in her bed, lulled by that earnest tone, entranced by the feel of careful fingertips grazing her skin… 

“I…” Amu bit her lip. She thought for a moment and Ikuto waited patiently, for the curiosity was unbearable now. Eventually, Amu sighed and, averting her gaze to the side, admitted quietly; “I… I just haven’t been sleeping.” 

Ikuto frowned. “Not sleeping?” he repeated. Amu nodded meekly and he folded his arms across his chest. Well, true enough to her, it made sense. She _had_ been wandering in a sort of stupor and she did look as exhausted as he’d ever seen her… But Ikuto was not to be deceived so easily. He would have smirked had he not been so engrossed in the moment. He could read her like an open book and this whole excuse just didn’t sit right at all. 

“Why?” 

That was the more pressing question. The look on Amu’s face only confirmed it. Ikuto leaned in, perhaps a little too eager to catch every word, but she was hesitating again, intertwining her fingers, biting the edge of her lip. He sighed; 

_“Amu,”_ he breathed and that one word was so full of frustration that he surprised himself. 

Amu sighed heavily. Her shoulders sagged, her very body deflating. “It's just…” And she shook her head, her cheeks turning pink, feeling like a child that had been caught doing something particularly cheeky. “I-It's just hard to hear Utau cry every night…” 

There was a pause. A heavy, stifling, swift silence during which Amu was unsure whether to apologise or flee into the darkness of her cabin. The seconds ticked by, settling in to the quiet. Amu braced herself, terrified that she would be scolded for her bout of late night eavesdropping.

Though it would have served her right, she thought. This was no business of hers. 

But Ikuto just blinked. “Utau?” 

Amu barely noticed the confusion that overcame his face. She barely even caught the bewilderment that crept into his tone, for she was fast growing self-conscious under his gaze. She wrapped her arms around her waist, shifting from foot to foot, just _waiting_ to be chastised. “It’s been getting louder lately,” she admitted timidly. “And I-I don’t mean to hear!" She insisted; "But I just… I can’t help but hear it. And I can’t imagine what she must be going through…” 

Ikuto cocked his head in the darkness, but his expression was unreadable. “Utau?” Ikuto repeated dumbly. “When has Utau-” 

“Every night!” Amu cut in, suddenly feeling far braver than she had all day. “Every night her cries reach me in my cabin and every night my loathing for that tyrant grows!” She spat. Her voice was breaking, tears were threatening to prick at the corners of her eyes, but she shoved them back, too fuelled on by fury to succumb to sadness now. “And it's despicable, Ikuto! It's _disgusting!_ And I can't bear it any longer because that- that _man_ you call a Captain has no right!” And, as the momentum of her little outburst ground to a slow halt, she drew a shaky breath, averting her gaze and whispering; “He… H-He has no right…” 

And, as the young pirate looked on, Amu finally fell silent, her gaze piercing and furious in the direction of Kazuomi’s cabin. But when he followed her line of sight, he did not spare a single glance at that ominous, padlocked door at the end of the corridor. Ikuto’s eyes fell on the cabin beside it, down from his sister’s… 

And then it hit him. 

Something tugged deep within his chest. In an instant, the quiet of the corridor was suffocating. His façade faltered. Yes… Yes, Ikuto thought, he had heard it too. Not for some nights now, but earlier that week… 

Ikuto’s eyes lit up in a dim recognition, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly slotting perfectly into place in his brain. He opened his mouth, but just as quickly closed it again. 

Amu thought she understood. But Ikuto understood better. He closed his eyes, his lips twitching into what might have been the ghost of a smile, and slowly stepped away from the cabin door. He held out a hand, beckoning her inside. 

"I see." He said, the light in his blue eyes dimming by the slightest fraction as she entered. Amu cast him a confused look, but he paid it no attention. "I wouldn't worry, Princess. I'll talk to her." 

Yes, Ikuto understood. But, purely due to Amu's concern, he would let it slide... Because she didn't need to know. 

She didn't need to understand anything that would only upset her further. 

"Ikuto," 

Amu's voice was small and timid as he turned to close her cabin door. He paused, waiting patiently. 

"Ikuto," Amu whispered, tentative and tiny in the endless, dark shadows beyond the doorframe that seemed to swallow every sound; every footstep; every muffled whisper. "Ikuto, I'm sorry." She said. "I-I don't want you to think that- W-Well..." 

Unexpectedly, Ikuto was overcome with the overpowering urge to flee, but he could not bring himself to do it. 

"Amu-" 

"I don't want to make you feel pitied," Amu interjected, hardly pausing for breath; "not when you have it hard enough here on this ship. But... I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry for what has happened to you both…” 

And Ikuto, suddenly and inexplicably struck to the core, barely heard his own voice respond in the darkness; 

"It's fine." 

In fact, so struck was he that he didn’t even hear the slam of the door behind him. And so strong was his wish to retreat... That he didn’t even realise his keys were still half-wedged in the door. 

~.~.~

When darkness fell, Amu’s world became a blur. 

When the inescapable veil of night washed over the world; when the seas stilled and all was lost to the tricksy shadows that lurked in the corners of her cabin, Amu could sometimes no longer tell whether she was immersed in dreams or trapped in reality. 

Amu could not recall ever falling asleep that night, nor could she ever remember making her way into her bed, for the past few nights she had spent either sat idle at her table or else slumped up against the hard, grainy wood of the door, unable to tear herself away, gripped by the cold, icy hands of despair. And so, drowsy and disorientated by the gentle rock of the ship, the Princess found herself altogether lost in a sort of haze - an indefinable plane between worlds. Around her, the darkness was creeping in. The shadows - come to life and writhing as malevolent spirits in the night - closed in on her, drowning out all vision, whispering mockingly all around her. Amu’s ears hearkened to their voices - unintelligible, yet so teasing, so tempting, high and shrill like the chatter of a hundred nameless creatures. 

She must have been dreaming, Amu thought. She _must_ have finally succumbed to the exhaustion that had plagued her body those past few nights as she knew in that rational part of her brain that such things could have only existed in campfire stories - in the dark tales and grim legends and ghostly happenings that she had grown up on, sat at her mother’s feet in the library and immersed in age-old fantasies. 

But, in the quiet of that cabin, something definitely stirred. Amu, sighing (because whether this was truly a dream or not didn’t matter anymore - she did not have the energy to do much about it) shut her eyes, revelling in the sweet escape, and tried to calm her frantic pulse. It was as if the nightmare she had been living in was finally starting to weed its way into her heart, for even here in her unconscious state she thought she could hear it. 

Perhaps it was the wind moaning outside, whistling over the waves. Perhaps it was the creaking of the furniture or the beams of the ship. Maybe it was the shadows - something from one of her mother’s stories stirring in the back of her memory - but, as she listened now, Amu could _definitely_ still hear it. 

Out on the wind beyond her cabin window, someone was screaming. 

Out on the sea there came a screeching - a never-ending, blood-chilling wail - that conjured up all sorts of long-forgotten fairy stories in her head. Images came flooding back to her, one by one until her mind was spinning, all faint and faded with time, but still definitely there… 

_“They only exist on the farthest shores, darling,” her mother said. Her cheeks were rosy in the light of the fire. Her reading glasses were perched, glowing orange, on the end of her nose and a heavy tome held open in her lap. Her voice was soft and hushed and as comforting as an old lullaby as she drew her eyes across the page and read aloud;_

_“They sit way up here upon the rocks and face the setting sun and when the night falls they sing and shout and cry out across the waters until their call is answered.”_

_And with such bright and inquisitive eyes, the child before her peered over at the dusty, fragile pages and traced the open map of the known world with a tiny finger, her mind running wild with dreams of foreign shores and starry skies and of all the creatures that lurked at the blank edges of the earth. Serpents and worms dwelt there, these drawings said, and all about the faded edge there lay rocky islands and distant outcrops, ravaged by the newborn waves._

_“And they live there, mama?”_

_“They do, dear,” Midori said as she turned the page. There was drawn the outer reaches of the globe itself where the ancient ‘Here Be Dragons’ still obscured the unsolved riddles of unknown lands. And there, on those very islands, cloaked in the mist, there sat those sirens who still screamed as banshees across the seas._

_“Men hear them in the dead of night, for their cries are heard to them most easily,” her mother went on, her voice a hush - dropping to a low whisper of awe. “But, as of yet… None have seen them and still lived to tell the tale.”_

_And when her mother had closed the book that night, Amu had thought that she could hear them even from her high home in the palace, their voices echoing across the sky, piercing the night until the early hours…_

Amu had almost forgotten them. Amu had almost failed to recall those women that wailed at the end of the world, luring in those unsuspecting sailors - appearing before them as spirits in the seaspray, forming from the foam and dragging them from their ships, taking them from the map itself and into the unforgiving, unknown abyss beyond. 

The Princess gasped, unaware of herself. There it was again. There - somewhere out there! - the ghostly figures screamed, their shrill voices nearing, rattling her brain- 

_“GET UP!”_

_BANG!_

Amu’s eyes snapped open. It was as if someone had drenched her in cold water - as if she had been thrust without warning into the reality of her deluded nightmares. She sat bolt upright in bed, now undoubtedly awake and frowning. She cast a glance at her window, but she knew instantly that the sea was still and the air calm. 

No, it was not the wind. There were no sirens beyond the sea. And that voice - that disembodied cry… 

_‘Oh God,’_ Amu gripped at her messy hair and curled up on her bed, burying her face in her knees. _‘Not again-’_

Another bang rent the night. That wavering, female voice was weeping again, louder and more desperate than ever before. Amu’s heart wrenched, her chest tightening, she found it hard to breathe- 

_“I said GET UP!”_

The shout made Amu jump beneath her sheets. She heard the sound of something shattering in one of the cabins across the hall - resounding as the crack of gunfire - and the cries continued. She grit her teeth, snarling despite herself. 

_‘Kazuomi.’_

She heard him now - clear as day. She heard his boots thunder upon the floorboards; heard his voice - low and deadly - as thunderous and forceful as a whirling hurricane; and Amu could barely breathe as she heard him holler and swear and cast dreadful oaths at that poor woman who faced his wrath. Her cries were rising fast. They were as high as the squeaking of strings and hysterical as a woman faced with whatever horrors Amu could not bear to guess. 

_“Please! Kaz-”_

The next shatter of glass might as well have been a deadly explosion. Amu nearly fell from her bed. There was a single oath, a half-strangled gasp of breath… 

And then silence. 

Shocked and shaken, Amu could do nothing more than sit, frozen in place, and count the seconds tick by. 

She had gotten to twenty before all strength returned to her. It all happened at once - the beating of her heart restarted; the terror gripped at her senses; adrenaline rushed through her veins; 

_“Utau..!”_

Particularly disturbing images leapt forth in her mind, all of which involved that fiery, yet melancholy blonde girl lying unconscious and bleeding (at the very least) on the floor of the Captain’s cabin, the man himself stood above her with a deadly weapon - the hilt of his sword or an empty bottle of rum perhaps - in his hand, still poised for that fatal strike. Amu scrambled out of bed, half-racing to her cabin door and pressed her ear against it, breathing unsteadily, her pulse pounding in her ears drowning out all other sound. Cursing under her breath, Amu leant forward another inch, flattening herself against the door, praying to make out something - _anything!_ \- amidst the quiet. 

And, immediately, she was overwhelmed with déjà-vu… Because the door inched open. 

It took a moment to process. Amu heard a crunching sort of sound followed by the click of the latch and the heavy thud of metal hitting the floor. In fact, she found she could do not much more than stare dumbly at the gap in the doorframe for some time before snapping out of it and peering out into the gloom of the corridor. At her feet were Ikuto’s keys. She snatched them up quickly. He’d be killed if the Captain saw them. 

And a good thing too because at that moment she heard footsteps growing louder and louder opposite her cabin. Petrified, Amu whipped her door shut just in time. She grasped the doorknob in her hand until her fingers grew numb, holding her breath as light flooded the little passageway and the heavy, unsteady feet of the Captain ambled down the corridor. He sounded like he was staggering. With every step his breath shuddered in his throat, low and raspy like a man on his deathbed. A few seconds passed before the Princess heard the clinking of chains and the bang of the door as Kazuomi retreated into his master cabin for the night. Amu stood there practically panting for a good few minutes before she was brave enough to peek her head into the corridor again. 

But, though it took a great deal of courage to dare a glance back down that dark, oppressive passageway, Amu was glad that she did. Faintly, as her eyes began to adjust to the dark, she could just make out the glow of two bright, piercing eyes in the light of a single candle. 

Instantly, Utau’s door inched shut, but the creak of the hinges gave her away. Amu almost sighed. Finally, something seemed to click in her mind. 

_‘Of course...’_ she thought as she looked back into the darkness. _‘That wasn’t Utau’s cabin.’_

This time, Amu really did sigh - light and breathy, but audible nonetheless. Or, at least, Utau certainly heard it. When she reluctantly pushed open her door, hanging her head like she had resigned herself to some terrible fate, her face was expressionless, but pale and ashen in the candlelight. Instantly, Amu was hit with a pang of sympathy. She had only had to listen to such torment for the past four nights, she realised. But Utau had lived with it for a _decade._

“Awake as well?” Amu said, but it wasn’t a question. Utau didn’t answer. “Or were you woken up?” 

Utau said nothing, but something in her jawline twitched. It was the same sort of hard, irrepressible tic that she had recognised in Ikuto - that she knew was the only thing that could belie his seemingly immovable, aloof façade. Her words had hit close to home. And Amu saw no need to inch around it. 

“It’s usually like this,” she uttered; “isn’t it?” 

Utau’s lilac eyes came up to meet hers then. Something unreadable passed across her face, if only for a second, but her gaze had hardened now and there was an edge in her voice as she hissed; 

“You don’t-” 

“He takes his anger out on those who least deserve it.” Amu cut in, her voice thick, but far stronger and clearer than it had been for days. “I honestly thought it was you behind that door,” she admitted, exhaling lightly. “The acoustics on this ship… Well, I’m not really used to them still. Not when there’s such a commotion, anyway. I thought it was you I was hearing every night - crying until the early hours. But it’s not, is it? After all...” and, without even registering her own movements, she began to wander into the cold, dank darkness of the corridor, stepping into the feeble light of that lone candle; “You’ve been listening too.” 

In the pause that followed, the night was still again. The distant footsteps in the Captain’s cabin had died and all candle glow from the crack beneath the door extinguished. Amu could barely hear the wash of the waves or the hiss of the sea foam outside. Utau’s candle flickered. Then, quietly, she drew a long, weak breath. 

“Well,” when she spoke her voice was as faint as a dying breeze. Her long, blonde hair had fallen into her face, but it was of no use. There was no denying the tension nor the restlessness that had set itself in her shoulders; no hiding the defeated slump of her body against the door; nor the misery in her tone as she whispered; “It’s no use. You’ve heard her now… But I don’t want to talk here.” And she looked darkly at the Captain’s cabin. “Not _here…”_

Amu thoroughly understood that. But, more so, she thought she understood the situation far better than she had those past few nights. 

In her mind's eye, even amidst the darkness, Amu thought she could see the shadows of a murky past. She thought she could see flames dancing in the dark spaces of the corridor; she thought she could just make out the silhouettes of many figures - young and old, weak and forceful alike - and, just barely, she saw in her head the structure of a stately home, yet the building was blackened and the walls crumbling in… 

And, in her head, she remembered; 

_“My mother and Utau had been caught. I didn’t see them - not until I came here...”_

Amu lowered her eyes to the ground. Really, when she thought about it… It all made sense.

“I’m sorry, Utau,” the Princess mumbled, flushing with embarrassment. She inched closer, eyeing Utau’s cabin warily. In that moment she was thoroughly torn. It was as if that threshold was some moral boundary - some distinct line cut across the deck that she should never dare to cross, for she had overstepped her place already these past few nights, lying awake and unknowingly eavesdropping on the misery of some poor woman she did not know. Suddenly feeling aghast and very obnoxious, Amu shook her head fiercely. “You know, Utau, you don’t have to tell me!” she said, her blush brightening, switching quickly from embarrassment to shame. “You don’t have to tell me anything - not if you don’t want to. You and Ikuto… You’re protective of her, aren’t you?” 

When she finally met the other woman’s eye again, there was a hesitance. What sounded like a sigh of exasperation echoed throughout the space; “He told you?” 

“N-No…” 

Utau scoffed, rolling her eyes with as much disdain as she could manage, yet it was weak. It was flimsy and uncertain and lacked all the bite that Amu had come to associate with this stubborn, quick-tempered enigma of a woman. “I can’t believe him. _Everyone_ on this ship knows! _You_ might as well! I can’t believe he never told you…” And, just like that, Amu was being pulled by the arm into the relative safety of Utau’s cabin. She stood awkwardly beside the little table whilst Utau slid all the bolts behind her door firmly shut. 

“We can’t keep everything from you,” she went on haughtily. She came to sit at the table and cast Amu such a commanding look that she didn’t even need to be told to follow suit. She settled into one of the rickety chairs and listened as Utau huffed; “Besides, if Ikuto won’t say, then _I_ will-” 

“Utau, really, you don't-” 

“It's our _mother,_ okay?” 

Amu had already guessed this, yet still all words died upon her lips - all coherent thought slipping from her brain. Utau seemed unsatisfied with the silence. “It's our mother,” she said again; “and every now and then our pig of a stepfather goes through a… _‘Rough patch’_ that can only be placated by, well…” 

If the Princess had wanted to say anything to this, she wasn't sure she'd have been able to. 

“Yeah.” Utau said harshly, drawing her back to their cold reality. “That's what I thought.” 

The inner workings Amu’s brain were frightfully slow as she sat there in this most impossible of situations - across from _Utau_ of all people, being trusted with such things that weren't hers to be trusted with… 

Yet it was not the information that had shocked her. It was the brusque touch to Utau’s words. She sat across from her, her arms still firmly folded, her eyes focused firmly on the table… The blonde’s tone was so cutting - so very cool, yet callous - that it was almost hard to believe. Amu wanted to sigh. The girl was a force to be reckoned with, but her nonchalance was feeble and unworthy of such an impassioned spirit. 

“Your… Your mother…” 

Quite quickly, Amu almost wished that Utau had never confirmed what she’d already suspected. The thought of a third Tsukiyomi captive aboard this ship - the thought of yet another of them secured under Kazuomi’s rule… It made her feel ill. 

“He captured mother and I,” Utau was saying, all false annoyance gone, replaced only by a sort of dull recollection. Amu wondered how many times the story had played over in her head over the years as she went on numbly; “He captured us… Our father was gone. Our home was gone. All he had was us.” 

“Utau-” 

“He married mother.” she said through gritted teeth, looking as though she could not bear to let the words go unspoken - like the flow would only cause her yet more pain and anguish if she kept them behind closed lips. Amu fell into silence, staring at her hands in her lap. “Presumably so as to secure whatever was left of our father’s fortune, though I still doubt it sometimes. Their marriage is not entirely legal - no documents or anything as such, you understand, Your Highness. Mostly though,” she sneered; “mostly I suspect he just wanted to ensure that we would be kept under his watch.” 

That sounded like the sort of callous treatment that could only be dealt by Kazuomi Ichinomiya, sure enough, but still it was frightfully unsettling. Amu shivered unknowingly. Utau was subconsciously raking her nails along her skin as she folded her arms. “Ikuto was brought to us some weeks later. It started then… The beatings.” she said and she looked over at Her Highness with such a knowing air - with such a piercing, steady stare - that Amu was just about ready to quail under her gaze. “Though he doesn’t tell _me.”_

“I-I know…” she admitted nervously, though why that stammer left her lips she couldn’t say. There was just something about the way that Utau could look at you. There was just _something_ inexplicable beneath those purple irises that could make a person feel small; that could make you feel as though no secret was safe; as though she could delve into your every thought and see your heart laid bare before her. “T-Though he wouldn’t tell me outright either…” 

“Neither.” Utau said. “But it sounds like he’s told you more than I have.” 

It was all Amu could do to look guiltily down at her interlocked hands again, nervously twiddling the frayed hem of her sleeve between the tips of her fingers. Her head was overcome by some shame that she could not place, but inside her heart was breaking. Just one look at Utau’s eyes would be enough to set her off at this point. She avoided her gaze fiercely, just wishing to disappear and retreat quietly back to the dark of her cabin… 

Utau heaved an almighty sigh. 

“I wish it would end, Amu... “ 

Amu’s head shot up, her eyes wide. Had this woman ever addressed her so casually before? She couldn’t remember, but she had no time to dwell on it as Utau shook her head, blonde pigtails bouncing, and leaned forward into the light; “If not for me, but for him.” 

“I… I understand that.” Amu said faintly and, whether by some fond memory or the growing light of the candle beside them, something soft and warm overcame her features. “The Captain takes his anger out on those who least deserve it… Ikuto just wants you and your mother to be let go. At whatever cost - even at the expense of himself.” 

In the dim light across from her, Utau looked light she wanted to speak, but something caught in her throat and no more than a weak breath came out. The Princess face hardened, a newfound sense of bravery coursing through her veins. 

“Utau,” Amu said. “I think your brother is the most selfless, courageous man I’ve ever met.” And she smiled before she could stop herself; “He does it all for you - all that work! He takes all that pain and torment at the hands of the Captain just so you don’t have to. Even _I_ have figured that out, Utau.” 

And she watched carefully as Utau nodded stiffly, but the dejected woman said nothing more. Amu saw her swallow thickly. There was definitely something shimmering in the corner of her eyes and, for once, Amu decided to take her own leave. She stood, rising silently from her chair and bowed lowly. 

“I’m sorry, Utau. But thank you for inviting me in. I really didn’t-” 

“No.” Utau cut in. When she rose to her feet, those glassy, unshed tears were gone and her face was warm and tranquil in the light of the candle. “Don’t mention it.” 

And, for once, she actually sounded welcoming. Amu couldn’t help it, but a brilliant grin broke out across her face. Any tension that had settled in that room throughout their little conversation was shattered - crumbling to dust about them. Amu laughed, light and free; 

“We should do this in the daylight next time.” 

Utau blinked slowly. 

“Yes…” she said faintly. She watched as Amu smiled brightly, her face alight in the glow of the little fire, and swept across to the door. 

“Goodnight, Utau!” 

Utau hummed in response, for words were beginning to fail her. Yet, in her mind, she managed but a single sentence; 

_‘Well I’ll be damned...’_ she thought as one in awe; _‘I think I understand you now, brother...’_

~.~.~


	27. Twenty-seven

Seven Seas Treasure

~.~.~

“He has not spoken all day, Your Majesty. I would recommend that we allow him to rest from now on.” 

“Of course, sir, but this man’s health is my concern, after all.” 

“I understand. Trust in us, sire, he shall be well taken care of.” 

The sigh that left King Tsumugu’s lips was subtle - weary and exasperated and full of doubt, yes… But still subtle- 

“Yes… I understand…” 

-and yet still it fell heavy and unwelcome and humiliating upon the Commander’s ears as he sat, still as a statue, in the drawing room, his shoulders hunched and the back of his chair to the door as if he could shield himself; as if it would magically block out all of those damned, infuriating whispers - all of those murmurs and hushed voices and concerned tones - that drifted through from the hallway. 

Tadase’s face was thin and pale - a mere ghostly, hollow image - as he slowly looked up, gradually lifting his eyelids as if they held an unbearable weight that he could no longer bear. The sunlight was blinding and cast spots upon his vision, but it was warm and cleansing and the Commander was glad for it as he gazed out over the familiar gardens that encircled the Hotori home. At least the light no longer pained his head, he thought. At least he could stare upon the glowing leaves and the colourful blooms and watch the sparkle and shimmer of the playful fountains without having to clutch his temples in pain, but, alas, it was only a small victory. It was but a baby step on the road to a recovery that he could not envision. True enough, he had overheard his physician raise his concerns about the state of the wound that had crippled his health. By the sounds of it, the internal damage would be lasting and perilous and so such a small triumph now felt insignificant - meaningless. It was merely a sign that he was further than death than they had thought. And that _should_ have been somewhat comforting… 

But now, as he bore the glare of the late summer sun and watched the first, weak petals fall from the cluster of roses beside the window, it only reminded him of just how precariously he lingered between the two oblivions - between life and death; his fate in the balance; hanging by a thread. His doctor had said, after all, that once he returned to land his condition would become more uncertain - that he would have to heal with time before they could gauge just how likely he was to make it through the coming weeks. 

Tadase wasn’t sure which one he preferred. His infection had ravaged his body. It had befuddled his mind and rent his spirit. It had made him weak - rendered him as nothing more than a sack of dead weight on such a vital, ongoing mission. And he despised himself. He cursed this wretched body and the pirate who had wrought this fate upon him. He cursed that scoundrel for his rusty blade and the doctor for his awful bedside manner; he swore dreadful oaths toward the Captain who had so shamefully slacked out at sea; at his feeble body and the raging affliction that flamed in his side… 

All he had ever wished for was to protect his Princess. And, whilst he still had courage enough to fuel an entire fleet of men… Well, courage was nothing without the strength to carry it out. This weak form of his was the biggest hindrance Tadase had ever been faced with. And it was like living in a waking nightmare, for the terror of idleness had always haunted him. 

Behind him, Tadase was drawn from his heavy, brooding thoughts as yet more infernal muttering echoed in the corridor beyond. He wondered, briefly, if they were aware of how sound travelled in that place or if they were just truly too ignorant to consider it.

Or maybe they didn’t care. Maybe they thought too little of him in his weakened state to turn their thoughts to the loathing warring within his heart. 

“Allow him to rest, Your Majesty,” the ship’s physician was saying. (Oh, how Tadase wished he would have left along with the rest of the fleet again.) “He may be delirious still. By the end of the week he may be up for a more lucid conversation.” 

And, in his head, Tadase scoffed. He was lucid enough already. 

“By the end of the week, Your Majesties, I shall see to it that he is able to speak more openly with you.” 

Again, the Commander could have huffed. He could have rolled his eyes and shaken his head and began to tut, calling back over his shoulder to inform them - loud and clear - that he was well enough to speak with the King and Queen whenever they wished! That he was not so deluded in his head that he couldn’t handle a simple conversation - pirate-related or not! He could sit right here, right now and indulge his Majesty who had trusted him so - whom he had given his word to; whom he had vowed to appease… 

But, in truth, Tadase could not bring himself to do it, for he couldn’t bear to face them. Not yet. Humiliation was burning hot and uncomfortable across his cheeks, but he counted himself lucky that he could put it down to the fever. That ailment, however maddening, had been a good enough excuse so far, yet still he knew that someday soon he would have to stand on his own two feet once more and bow before the King and absolutely _beg_ for forgiveness. 

They had assured him upon his arrival that they did not blame him. They had consoled him on those first few nights when he had lain shaking and restless in his bed and they had said to him that he was not to blame - that they were merely anxious for his health; that he was to take the time he needed to recover; that he was to think of nothing but recovering his strength whilst he still could. His entire fleet still scoured the seas, after all. Somewhere out there beyond the line of the sea - twinkling, strikingly blue way beyond the border wall of the Hotori ground - there still sailed an entire nation’s army of sloops and schooners and men-of-war alike, all locked tight in that relentless, never-ceasing search for Her Royal Highness. 

But the fact that he was not a part of his own fleet rent Tadase’s heart irreparably. 

Even if he defied all the odds and made that full recovery he so wished for, that shame would never leave him. And, in his head, the mantra still weathered on; 

_‘Amu. Amu. Amu.’_

Outside, as the light of the sun grew stronger and warmer upon the earth, reaching it’s midday point, Tadase’s eyes fell upon a cluster of dahlias. They were pink. They were the kind of pink that so haunted his dreams - that he still saw every time he closed his eyes; that remained engraved in his memory throughout every waking hour and every restless night, filled with dreams in which he swooped over sunny shores and sparkling seas, forever chasing a ship he could never reach. They were the kind of soft, bright, pastel pink that fuelled his spirit - that drove him forever towards the line of the sea so long as she remained somewhere out there, hopeful, waiting for rescue. 

And, though his body remained slumped, limp and weak in his armchair, a determination as strong as steel and as cold as ice was alight in his eyes. 

For he would never give up. 

He would never leave Amu to her fate for as long as he lived. 

To hell with that pesky physician, Tadase snarled. That pathetic man gave him a week before he could talk. Tadase gave himself a week before he could _walk._ He swore it - he vowed to be on his feet again by that time, for every precious minute wasted lay heavy on his conscience. 

And so, even there within the walls of his own home, the Commander’s eyes remained fixed ever seaward. Day in, day out, he watched it, praying, pleading… 

_‘Amu. Amu. Amu.’_

Beneath an old, gnarled hedgerow, Tadase watched as a flock of songbirds rose into the sky, bursting through the lush, green leaves in a clamour of cries, springing to life all at once in a bright, burst of colour. And, as quickly as they had appeared, they were off - the wind beneath their wings, feathers striking in the sunlight. As one they turned towards the breeze and soared out towards the horizon. Tadase remembered such joyous freedom. 

Fleetingly, he wondered where they were headed. 

~.~.~

Satisfaction was something that had become pretty much unheard of aboard this ship. In fact, there were many things that were difficult to get a grasp on these days whilst the nights grew ever darker and the sunlight weaker - whilst that ominous shadow of dread still settled heavy upon the hearts of the crew as they tip-toed across the decks, forever looking over their shoulders in fear. 

But today was one of those rare days when Ikuto could truly say that he felt content. 

Perhaps, now that he thought more carefully about it, he should have been more worried, for his stepfather had not called for him once today. Not once had be been (so far) summoned by one of the thugs to trudge over to the Captain’s cabin with a new bottle of whiskey or a pitcher of rum. Not even had he been caught unawares and beaten for all his troubles. And, of course, that was the most blissful respite that Ikuto could ever have dared to ask for. It was at times like this, after all, that he was free to pretend that the Captain simply didn’t exist. It was days such as these that he could entertain himself with the fantasy that his life so far had been nothing more than a bad dream - that there lay in wait no such monster in that dark, depressing cabin, tightening his hold on his stepson’s chains, demanding his compliance throughout every waking hour. 

And, whilst the release was sweet and the rest a welcome bliss, Ikuto knew somewhere at the back of his mind that he should have been more cautious. The only reason his stepfather ever ignored him for any length of time was when he was either particularly displeased with him (not that Ikuto ever gave a toss) or when he was too busy brooding over whatever secrets lay hidden in the dark of his cabin to be bothered by anything else. But, whichever it was that had Kazuomi’s attention hooked this time, Ikuto knew from experience that neither would work out gladly for him. The Captain grew more unpredictable the longer he was left alone. Usually the next time he saw his stepfather, the tyrant would be too wound up by whatever had irked him to care how hard he hit of how loud he yelled - as if all his frustration had been bubbling away beneath the surface until it grew too much to contain, just _demanding_ a suitable outlet to take out his rage upon. 

So, really, Ikuto knew that he should have been worried, but here in the light of the sun and the calm of the breeze, he just couldn’t bring himself to care. Every second he was out of sight of that infernal bastard was another second of pure, untroubled satisfaction. And, in truth, he had wondered to himself if this was but the calm respite before the brunt of the hurricane. He wondered, casting his gaze over the eerily peaceful waters, whether or not there was something brooding on the horizon - a thick, impenetrable squall gathering just beyond their sights, lying in wait, creeping upon them unseen as as leviathan beneath the waters. 

But, somehow, the thought failed to bother him. It failed to strike such anxiety in his heart as he looked down at that radiant light upon the deck, the sound of laughter so light and free - so very out of place that it fell like a sweet symphony upon his ears. 

Below him on the gangway, Amu was clutching at her stomach, her shoulders shaking with barely contained laughter as she watched Kukai engage in a fruitless battle with that stupid bird, Daichi, who had managed to perch himself upon the highest yard he could find and was expertly avoiding any attempt at capture. High above, Kukai’s curses travelled down on the breeze as he lunged precariously for the bird only to watch the thing swoop away, a mere blur of green and yellow, and settle on some other unreachable point amongst the clouds. 

_“GOD DAMN IT, DAICHI!”_

Ikuto watched, smirking, as the sniggering Princess wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. Around her the men were grinning, shaking their heads and failing to bite back their own amusement. Ikuto smiled too. 

How could he not? 

When he had opened up her cabin door that morning (and how strange, he had thought, for the door was securely locked, but his keys were on her table?) he had been greeted by possibly the warmest smile he had seen for days. 

“About time, Ikuto!” Amu had said in annoyance, but the twitch of her lips belied her and the teasing glint in her eyes was so blinding that Ikuto had not found the words to respond as she swept towards him, a rustle of skirts and a burst of pink. “Overslept?” 

And somehow in the midst of all his confusion, he had managed a smirk. “I heard you snoring all the way out on deck,” he drawled smoothly; “I thought I’d give you another hour.” 

Bright red overcame her face, her cheeks puffing adorably, before she’d regained composure enough to speak. “R-R-Ruffian…” 

And Ikuto chuckled, both in that little cabin and out here on the deck of the frigate, watching with amusement as Amu went about her daily tasks and acted for all the world as if she hadn’t just spent the past week or so in that sullen, sorry state that had bothered him so badly. 

She was not completely recovered, he noticed. He had watched her carefully that day. He had watched the way she still tip-toed uneasily down the corridor; the way some thoughtful glaze overcame her face; as she struggled to focus when not engaged by work or banter. But, true enough, that sorrow in her eyes was gone. She snapped out of her thoughts far quicker and far more easily than she had done before. And, most of all, she shone almost as brightly as she had before. Amu seemed content. She seemed calmer… And Ikuto remained befuddled. Satisfied, but befuddled. 

Yet, somehow, Ikuto thought he enjoyed that. He thought that he enjoyed the way she puzzled him - the way she fascinated him; bewildered him; the way she had him constantly on his toes and occupied his very thoughts, for he hadn’t had anything truly positive to dwell on in ten years of his life… 

How was it that she never failed to stump him? How was it that he had been ensnared so easily? 

Down below of the main deck, Kukai landed quite unceremoniously on his feet and pouted, shaking a fist towards the sky; “Just you _wait, ya half-wit!”_ he cried. Daichi squawked petulantly in reply. Kukai growled, but cooled just as quickly. He heaved an almighty sigh; “Man,” he whined, deflating faster than a torn sail in the wind; “Cap’n’ll have my _head_ off if we can’t fetch Daichi down for the night!” 

Beside the frustrated pirate, Amu sighed, but bit her lip in amusement. “Come on, Kukai,” she said; “it’s barely midday. You’ve got plenty of time.” 

Kukai just looked back at her blankly. “You got any idea how hard it is to get that moron down?” 

High up above, Daichi squawked as if in agreement. Kukai’s eye twitched. 

_“You’ll see! I’ll get ya down if I gotta wait all day!”_

Ikuto saw her shoulders begin to shake just noticeably and, content and lounging in the warm light, he just couldn’t help but stare. And, for the first time, he wondered then if the other men didn’t feel it too, for he noticed the way that Kukai’s ire was instantly quelled. He smiled, bright and cheerful as ever, effectively snapped out of his irritable mood and began to laugh along with her. Yes, as he stood there, Ikuto couldn’t help but feel like he was not alone. He had thought (quite foolishly) that he was the only soul aboard this ship observant enough to notice it… But he was quite mistaken. 

Ikuto realised it now. He remembered now more than ever that there was but one other who could sneak about so skilfully as he, rushing about the decks as a shadow on starless nights; their footsteps unheard; their whispers falling away into the wind and fading out into the sea. Ikuto could feel their eyes upon him as he worked that day. He could feel their gaze itching at his back, boring into the back of his shoulders, but never did he catch them in the act. No, that would be too easy, for although their act of stealth was good, it was _he_ who had taught her in the first place. 

And so Ikuto did not call her out on her little game that entire day - not until the fading light swept once more across the deck, burning with the departing sun, and he made his way with the Princess back to her cabin. 

“Well now, Your Highness,” Ikuto said far louder than was needed and with a sweeping bow beckoned Amu towards her door. “Your cabin awaits.” 

In the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a fleeting shadow, but he did not acknowledge it. He merely revelled in the satisfaction, so entertained that he almost missed Amu’s huff of indignation. 

“What's gotten into you?” The Princess raised a critical eyebrow and folded her arms firmly across her chest, but her cheeks were quickly turning pink and Ikuto’s amusement almost doubled at the sight. “I didn't take you for the chivalrous type.” 

“Now, Amu,” Ikuto said; “when have I been anything but chivalrous towards you?” 

Her answer was something halfway between a scoff and a snort - thoroughly unladylike, but what was the point of keeping up manners amongst a wild buccan crew anyway? 

“It would make a change, that’s for sure.” she countered. “B-B-But don’t expect me to start swooning just because you’ve finally learned some royal manners!” 

“You’re hardly the swooning type.” Ikuto commented as he held the door open for her, much to Amu’s surprise. “And I’m hardly a prince.” 

Amu quickly fought back a snigger. The thought was so inappropriate! Every prince she had met in her life had been just the same - short and snide and selfish, their egos almost as puffed up as their ridiculous, frilly capes and the thought of Ikuto in such dress was so wildly inappropriate for his character that soon her giggles became brilliant, breathless laughter. 

“So _rude,”_ Ikuto smirked, sensing the perfect opportunity to deal out whatever mischief he had been denied in those past few days. 

And so Ikuto went on, his eyes dancing playfully, their conversation flipping back and forth and all the while he felt those lilac eyes upon him, honing in on him even through the dim light as his sister pressed her eye up against the keyhole of her cabin door, her forehead leant against the grain, breathing lowly. 

She had been merely observing for some time now and, though Utau already knew in her heart what was going on between her brother and that captive royal, it every time still managed to surprise her. Still it managed to keep her up through the late hours, sat at her bed in disbelief because she had never thought that she would see her brother in such a light. And so still she watched, her interest piqued, as the Princess was locked away for the night. She watched as they bid their nightly farewells; as the door slowly shut; as he locked it firmly with his set of keys and turned to rejoin the crew before the coming of night. 

Utau relaxed, sensing that her day of observance was over. 

But, just as she thought he was about to turn back and head out onto the deck, Ikuto stopped in his tracks. Silhouetted against the glare of the sun, she saw him shift. 

She jumped back from her position of the door instantly, shoving herself away from the gap in the keyhole as though it had burned, inching away as quietly as she possibly could and watching carefully… Her heart was pounding, her cheeks flushing at the very notion of being caught red-handed by her _brother_ of all people. 

Seconds passed. The steady swell of the tide rocked the ship towards the portside. After a few, faint, breath-holding minutes, her panic settled… 

And then, just when Utau thought that the coast was clear, a shadow fell beneath the door. 

“I know you’re there, Utau,” 

It was oh-so faint - just barely audible over the hush of her own breathing, but Utau heard it. She sighed. Reluctantly, she drew back the locks on her door and somehow - _miraculously!_ \- found to courage to face her brother, stood smirking in the shadows of the corridor. 

“Evening, Utau.” Ikuto said lightly. 

And Utau swallowed. “Evening, Ikuto.” 

~.~.~

It was almost surreal, she thought. It was almost unbelievable; like one of her dreams; it was almost as if none of the shadows of misfortune had overcome their past as Utau stood side by side with her brother on the deck of the Shining Black, watching from up above on the aftercastle as the crew below lazily wrapped up their last set of chores for the evening. 

To Utau’s right the sun was setting, the sky burnt orange, stained with pink clouds as it sank slowly below the waves. From the west a warm wind blew. Somewhere high above their heads they could hear the shrill shrieks and squawks of that idiot parrot and the cries of the poor soul that had been sent to fetch and cage him for the night. Utau glanced to her left and saw that Ikuto smiled lightly, staring up into the sails at the entertaining sight. It entranced her, his smile. It warmed her chest and settled her soul; it soothed out all the anxieties that still lingered unwanted in her mind. Ikuto’s smile had become a rare and precious thing aboard this ship. Utau _treasured_ it. 

Apparently feeling her eyes upon him, Ikuto hummed in thought. “You’ve been outside more often lately.” he said. Utau raised a single eyebrow. Finally, he tore his gaze away from the parrot and looked into the eyes of his little sister, glowing in the rays of the waning sunlight. “I’ve seen you.” 

Utau was quiet for a moment. “Yes…” 

She cursed herself for not finding more to say. How long had it last been since the two of them had stood together so openly on the deck of the ship? How long had it been since she appeared so comfortable in the daylight? Utau didn’t know, but it felt like an eternity… And now that the opportunity was here she couldn’t find the words. She fixed her eyes firmly out to sea, past the main deck and the forecastle, beyond the top of the figurehead on the prow of the ship. An awkward silence settled. 

“What did you say to her?” 

Her brother’s voice pulled her attention firmly back to the present. Utau blinked, shooting him a confused, sideways glance, but Ikuto just smirked - a smirk that had her spirits thoroughly raised, for that too had become a rarity growing up - and stared down with a knowing twinkle in his eye. 

“You’ve been more tolerant of her as well.” he said. It wasn’t a question. Utau waited. “I know you said something to Amu… I just don’t know what.” 

In her mind, Utau saw Amu’s face bathed in candlelight, awkwardly perched in her seat in her cabin. She saw the darkness of that unforgiving corridor; heard the gasps and whimpers from the cabin down; heard bootsteps and the shatter of glass and the story of their family history falling free and unexpected from her lips… A shiver worked its way over Utau’s skin. Ikuto was still watching her, waiting with all the patience in the world. Their eyes were locked in a silent battle for several seconds - cobalt blue and stunning lilac clashing furiously like rival cutlasses until- 

“She told you, did she?” Utau uttered, her lips twitching. Unbeknownst to the blonde, Amu had not breathed a single word of their little encounter to anyone, but Ikuto wasn't about to give up the game just yet. 

“Maybe.” he replied, though he had always been a pro at concealing the truth beneath that cool façade of his. He leaned heavily against the rails in front of them, his gaze never leaving her. “What happened?” And, when she didn’t reply immediately; “I’m _curious.”_

Utau could have laughed. She could have broken out into sniggers right then and there because suddenly she felt as though her brother was truly back with her - that this was truly the man he would have grown to be had their lives not been so callously interrupted by the hands of the Captain who still lingered in the dark of his cabin. And, yes, Utau had seen his soft side more than once aboard this ship. When she had needed comforting, Ikuto was there. When she had first witnessed the wrath of her stepfather and the cries of her mother, Ikuto was there. And when she had lain awake in tears, tending to her brother as he slipped in and out of consciousness, bleeding through wounds she could not see, even then in his delirious state he had been there trying to reassure her - to tell her that he was truly okay even though his strength weakened with every passing day; even though the light had died in his eyes… 

But, for all those tender moments between the two, Utau had never in all these years felt as though she would have been able to stand here beneath the sunset and see such mischief and cunning play about his face as it did now. 

And it lightened her heart. 

Utau sighed, her resolve wavering. “I told her.” she said. “I told Amu about mother.” 

Ikuto’s eyebrow darted upwards so fast that it almost made her snicker. She did not think that he would be angry, but Utau wasn’t the least bit surprised as she watched him fumble to regain his composure. 

“You did?” Ikuto breathed, all humour gone. In truth, he wasn’t quite sure how to react. It wasn’t often that his sister left him speechless. As it was, the blonde folded her arms across her chest and said haughtily; 

“Well _you_ weren’t going to tell her!” she countered, frowning. “That stupid girl’s been staying up at night listening to that poor woman - she’s too curious for her own good! And if _you_ weren’t going to do it…” Utau’s voice trailed off, her chest deflating, looking almost like a sheepish child under her brother’s unwavering stare. “If you weren’t going to do it… Then I thought I should…” 

A moment of silence settled then. Utau gripped at the sleeves of her tattered dress, averting her eyes back out and onto the sea, bracing herself for the wave of protests that was sure to come, for she did not think that Ikuto would have taken such a thing lightly. A hint of worry was nagging away at her brain. If he snapped at her now after such a peaceful few moments… Well, she didn’t want to ruin their evening together for anything in the world. 

But, to her surprise, Ikuto stayed silent. After a minute or two, Utau chanced a glance back in his direction. He was leaning his chin against his hand, watching the crew as they scurried about like worker ants with little interest, apparently deep in thought. Utau’s worry eased a little. She loosened her grip and swallowed thickly. 

“You’ve been different lately.” she said as the sinking sun reached its midway point on the horizon. The sky was dimming, quickly giving in to the oncoming cool of night. Behind them in the west, orange was failing to a glorious purple that matched the hue of her eyes. Ikuto stared at them, but said nothing. And then, Utau smirked; “Don’t think I haven’t noticed, brother _dearest.”_

Ikuto scoffed, finally breaking his silent treatment. “I don’t-” 

“You don’t allow just anyone to walk into your business like that, do you Ikuto?” Utau’s gaze was piercing, boring into Ikuto’s skull as she waited for that little statement to sink in. Slowly, gradually, but oh-so inevitably, she saw his eyes widen by a fraction. 

“Utau-” 

“I suppose I should thank Her Highness, really.” Utau said simply, deciding rather quickly to just put him out of his misery and be done with it. “I never thought any woman alive would ever be able get through to you. A miracle-worker that girl must be...” 

And, for a long time, Ikuto couldn’t find the words to reply. Utau was still grinning smugly, devilishly, as she leant beside him, trying not to laugh aloud at the pure bewilderment on his face. In fact, she almost thought that she’d broken him when he straightened, sighing deeply. When he smiled down at her - a smile so subtle and rare and so gloriously _genuine_ \- her face softened considerably. 

“You sneaky little sister.” 

Utau truly hadn’t needed confirmation. She hadn’t really needed a clear-cut reassurance that it was the Princess who was responsible for her brother’s recent change in temperament, but it still lightened her heart to hear. She had been right - she really _should_ have been thanking Amu, no matter what she might have thought of the girl when she’d first met her that night in her cabin. It was a small price to pay, Utau realised. It was truly insignificant when she saw Ikuto now - looking freer than he had for years; laughing more openly; slowly letting down his guard even here in plain sight on the deck of their stepfather’s ship. 

High above, in the last rays of the setting sun, the white diamond of the Shining Black was ablaze as a steadily-burning fire. Utau’s gaze settled on that brilliant, glowing emblem and, for the first time in ten years, she did not feel afraid. Perhaps she was letting _her_ guard down too much. Perhaps she was being lulled into a false sense of security that would never be. Perhaps there was in fact no solid connection… But Utau could not deny that since the Princess’ arrival, things had changed. 

Briefly, she wondered whether Amu was a mere distraction from reality, but it didn’t matter, for without her such light would never have shone upon the Shining Black. Without her, such a difference in their lives would never have been made possible. And without her, her brother’s smile would never have become more genuine and Utau finally admitted, now more than ever, that she was truly grateful. Hope was finally something real and tangible and deep-seated within her chest - it was finally beginning to drown out all those dark places in the back of her mind that still kept her awake and restless even now. 

And still it blossomed all the way out into the night. Still it lingered even after the last of the crew had fled the decks; until the hush of a tranquil midnight had descended upon the world; until that last little sliver of the moon finally broke through the wisps of cloud, drifting gently across the horizon… Even then it still remained with her. And it lightened her spirit. 

~.~.~

Utau was still allowing herself that brief respite from reality when she found herself in the dark of the corridor that night, faced with none other than the Princess’ door, her spare set of keys within her grasp and a newfound courage coursing through her veins. Utau took a breath, tightened her grip on her keys and, without even giving it a second thought, knocked upon the door. Seconds ticked by. Utau knocked again, tapping against the grain as loudly as she dared. She began to wonder then whether the Princess had finally fallen asleep, spent and drained after a week of restless nights, when the door finally cracked open. 

“Utau?” Amu’s voice was thick with sleep, but her eyes were brighter than they’d looked in days. Hurriedly, Amu wrapped a cloak around her thin nightgown, running her hands through untidy pink hair. “W-What can I do for you?” 

So polite even when awoken in the dead of night, Utau thought. She allowed herself a small amused smile, but in the shadows of the corridor Amu didn’t see it. “Evening, Your Highness.” 

“E-Evening, Utau,” Amu stammered, frowning slightly. She opened the door a little wider and fleetingly looked down the hallway. The blonde wondered if she’d been expecting her brother. “What’s going on? Is everything okay?” 

Utau just nodded wordlessly. Then she stepped aside, gesturing to the faint moonlight filtering in through the windows at the end of the corridor, dancing in the dark like the ripple of water on the seabed. “It’s a nice night.” she said breezily, as if she hadn’t just appeared unbidden at the Princess’ door at such an inopportune hour. “I think you should come and see it.” 

And apparently that was that. Amu watched, bemused, as Utau turned on her heel and cooly wandered away, back into the darkness and towards the deck, barely even looking back to check if she was being followed. Amu was stunned to silence for a few seconds before realising that the blonde was already slipping through the double doors and out into the night. “W-Wait, _Utau..!”_ And she tugged the cloak closer to her body and shut the door behind her as gently as she could manage, only pausing to cast the tiniest of glances towards the Captain’s door. She scurried after her. 

When Amu tip-toed out into the cool of the night she found Utau on the main deck below, stood resolute and small against the open sky, her eyes fixed firmly upon a cluster of stars just northwest of their position. “See what I mean?” she said once Amu was beside her. “It’s a nice night, isn’t it?” 

Amu blinked up at the sky above them, only partially interested. Bright and brilliant the stars were, but she couldn’t bring herself to become lost in them tonight. She nodded even so, somewhat nervous, for she hadn’t had much interaction with Ikuto’s younger sister, nor did she think that the woman particularly liked her that much. Still, she figured that it was best to be polite. “Y-Yes, it is…” And she laughed, if a little cautiously as she recalled the night before. “Are-Are you trying to make a habit of this, Utau?” 

Something mischievous tugged at the blonde’s lips. “It’s a welcome change, if you like.” 

Amu thought she understood enough of this statement. She nodded absently, turning her eyes to the waters below, gently lapping against the hull of the mighty frigate. They were darker tonight, these waters. The stars only sparkled subtly on the surface of the sea. The ocean tonight was endless and void-like below them and, for a moment, it truly felt as though they had been entirely separated from the rest of the world, for that black abyss spread all around them, swallowing up the edges of the horizon until all that existed was the all-encompassing night. Amu glanced upwards and saw that half of the sky had been shrouded by cloud. Even as they stood there that string of stars that Utau had been so entranced by was disappearing - vanishing behind a puff of cloud stained grey in the moonlight. But, even so, a sense of familiarity overcame her. Something had sprung to the front of her mind, nagging away at her brain as she stared out at the shadows against the skyline… 

And, faintly, Amu realised. At once this scene came to life in her head. Suddenly in her mind this sky was alight - a rich, midnight blue, vivid and alive with the twinkle of a million, undying stars swept against the inky night… Amu felt her breath hitch in her throat. She felt her pulse begin to race. She remembered that night she and Ikuto had stood together, lulled into a peaceful sense of security, side-by-side, marvelling at the many constellations, bathing in their ethereal light. A great calm washed over her as she realised that this was probably the very spot where they’d stood. She smiled secretly to herself. His music was ringing in her ears again, playing on repeat, flowing through her chest, tugging at her heartstrings. Amu hugged the cloak about her waist, suddenly very warm despite the lack of the sun. 

Beside her, Utau was watching with interest. Unbeknownst to the Princess, the very same melody was fresh in her own mind. Utau folded her arms against the bulwark and watched the cluster of stars she had been focusing on disappear entirely behind the oncoming wave of cloud. “Calming isn’t it?” she said, though her voice was unusually hushed, on par with the light wash of the water beneath them. Utau heard Amu hum in agreement. Then she exhaled, muttering into the still night air; “I never thought this place could be so peaceful.” 

Amu looked over at her, but said nothing. Utau continued; 

“He thinks so too.” she uttered. “Not that he’s told me. Come to think of it, I never thought that we could be so calm… Not here. Not on this ship.” 

The Princess was at a loss. Something sorrowful settled within her chest. “Utau…” 

“It’s never been this way.” Utau went on, barely caring for the concerned eyes of the woman beside her, for she felt as though something had been unleashed inside her. She felt as though something that had been boiling for years had finally been allowed to overflow, pouring from her lips, drifting out into the night. “Even when I’m around,” she said; “he’s never been like that. My brother feels as though he is solely responsible for our family’s burdens. He thinks it is his to bear - that he must carry them in our place… But he doesn’t have to! And he won’t accept that!” 

And Amu, stunned and feeling somewhat privileged (because how many could say that Utau Tsukiyomi, of all people, had confided in them?) nodded. “You know, Utau,” she began slowly; “I swear right here and now that if I ever get off this ship that man will hang. Your Captain and all his cohorts… They will hang. I shall see to it.” 

Utau blinked, mildly in awe to hear such things fall from Amu’s lips. For such a thing to come from the mouth of one so caring - so compassionate and bright and pure… Well, it was unexpected. But Utau couldn’t deny that it would have pleased her greatly. Her lips twitched. “Perhaps,” she said; “if Ikuto doesn’t get his hands on him first.” 

The two shared a sneaky glance at that and, though Amu realised that she should have been appalled for wishing such a thing, she secretly hoped that one day Ikuto and all these other men aboard the Shining Black might just the just revenge they so deserved. 

“Could he do it?” Amu asked then, a hint of doubt creeping into her tone. “Ikuto hates him, of course. We all know that. But do you think that he… That he _could?”_

Utau frowned so suddenly that the Princess was almost worried she’d said something completely out of line. “Why do you say that?” she said sharply. “You know what that man does to him - to _all_ of us!” 

“W-W-Well, I-I-” Amu flailed, desperately searching for an appropriate response. Utau’s eyes were bright and unblinking in the darkness, her heart was hammering as she stammered; “O-Of course I know that! B-But, well… Ikuto is…” and she averted her gaze, her eyes dropping down to her hands on the top of the bulwark, and something soft overcame her face. “Well, it’s like I said to you last night, Utau. Your brother is possibly the most considerate man I’ve ever known. And I know what your Captain has done to you all, but I somehow think that he would prefer to see Kazuomi hang rather than…” 

She trailed off, somehow unable to finish, for no matter how hard she tried, she just could not bring herself to say it aloud. The image of Ikuto - the image of that calm, considerate, earnest Ikuto - covered in blood… It unsettled her deeply... No matter how much the Captain might have deserved it. 

“And- a-anyway,” Amu went on, swiftly keeping the conversation moving, quickly very keen not to regress and dwell on the morbid image in her mind; “Ikuto’s come round to me a lot. I-I don’t think that he-” 

“Yes.” Utau interrupted. Amu cut off midway, glancing over at the blonde who stood in thought, her chin propped up beneath her fists, staring up at the shifting sky above. Then she sighed, her shoulders sagging, and said as if it were the hardest thing to admit in the world; “You seem to have that sort of effect on my brother.” 

Amu’s cheeks flushed pink. Her heart beat loudly in her chest. Utau cast her a stern, sideways eye then - something hard and critical that Amu couldn’t read. She shook her head fiercely. “W-Well, uh, I w-wouldn’t s-say that…” And, mentally, she cringed so pitifully that she half-wished the sea would open up beneath them and swallow her right then and there. _‘Why must I blush in front of Utau?”_

That fickle woman was still eyeing her suspiciously when Amu had begun to recover, her eyebrow raised and her brows furrowed. Then, all of a sudden, she sighed. She drew out a deep breath, folding her arms comfortably across the side of the ship, and all hostility left her. Her features took on a gentle warmth, peaceful and placid in the silvery light of the moon. All worries seemed to soothe out; all the anxious lines and wrinkles in her forehead vanishing beneath the starlight. Utau looked out to sea, fixed on the thin blue line of the horizon where in some hours’ time the sun would rise - fresh and molten and cleansing, washing the waters in a new light, bringing in the rosy dawn. In the dim light, Amu thought she caught her smile. 

“Oh well,” Utau said. “I am grateful.” 

Amu almost did a double-take. Embarrassment fading, she stepped in closer, her mouth hung open to make come exclamation of surprise when Utau huffed; 

“At this point I don’t particularly care how it’s done,” she confessed haughtily, her head held high in whatever pride she had left in her body. “I’d just like to see Ikuto loosen up for a change! He’s never trusted anyone this way before! And in fact, if I’m honest, I don’t think it’s just Ikuto that feels it.” 

And Utau was honestly a little surprised that Amu seemed clueless to this comment. She watched her, apparently unable to speak, her bright, golden eyes lost and confused. But still, Utau could not ignore it. Nor could a single man aboard this ship, come to think of it. There was just something… Something striking in that smile of hers. There was something warm and reassuring in those eyes of hers that touched the hearts of all around her - that made you feel as though all would be well; that could persuade you even in your darkest hour that there was still a light waiting on the other side; that could be as comforting as a summer’s day, yet also stern and absolute and unwavering… It was that, Utau realised, that she saw in the eyes of every capable leader she had ever met. It was that which truly reminded her that this stammering girl before her contained the qualities of a future Queen. But, no matter what Amu’s future, there was just something there that had lightened the fog about this ship. There was something there that had crept its way into Utau’s own heart. Sure enough, she had never had the courage to stand so freely on the deck before Amu’s arrival, for, after all, if Her Highness could bring herself to so confidently work about these men then why couldn't _she?_ Why _shouldn't_ she? 

But, for all Utau’s gratitude, she would never have admitted it. Not to her face, at least. 

Quite thankfully, Utau didn’t have to admit to anything as it turned out, for at that moment Amu spoke softly; 

“Utau…” she began fondly. “You care about Ikuto more than anyone ever could, don’t you?” 

In all her years on the Shining Black, Utau had never blushed. She had never stuttered nor gaped nor felt so flustered as she did at that moment (or, not that she would ever confess to, anyway), but she felt somewhat humiliated to find her cheeks flush at that single question. She huffed, shaking her pigtails, puffing as though it would help cool her head; “Now don’t you go exaggerating!” 

Amu bit her lip, trying desperately to hold back a grin, but Utau saw it. She wanted to sigh again, defeated. She should have resented this girl, she thought, for being the one to make her brother smile. She should have been riled - should have been positively disgusted at the thought that she could have done such a thing whilst Utau could not. Yet, somehow, Utau couldn’t bring herself to do it. Not anymore - not as her laughter echoed across the waters; as the clouds drew back and a single, mighty constellation cast new light upon the waters. Neither said anything more. A tranquil sort of quiet settled across the deck, lulling the two of them to silence. 

“Well, you were right, Utau.” Amu began after a while. “It is a nice night.” And then something teasing glinted in her eyes; “I should bring tea next time.” Amu half-joked. To her surprise, Utau looked as if she was about to laugh. 

“Certainly better than rum,” Utau mused, her lips twitching into a faint smirk that reminded the Princess so much of her brother. But, with that reminder, Amu felt a burst of warmth blossom within her chest. To think that Utau thought she had improved their lives, if even only by the slightest… 

“Thank you, Amu.” 

It filled her entire being - her very soul! - with joy. 

“You’re most welcome, Utau.” 

Because Amu didn’t know anybody who deserved it more. 

“The sea breeze is cool tonight, isn’t it?” Utau said faintly. 

Above them, the clouds were thinning, the moonlight smudging the sky like chalk. Once more, the two of them fell silent, neither looking at the other, yet comforted for their company. Amu had the distinct impression that she had formed some immovable tie with this elusive woman. She couldn’t help but shake the feeling that she had achieved something that night - something deep-seated in both their hearts, bound together by that one aspect of their lives which they shared together. In her mind, Amu thought back to that night she had spent with Ikuto in her cabin. She recalled the sound of his voice in the dark of her room and she remembered that feeling of pride - of that privilege she had felt because to get not one, but _two_ Tsukiyomi siblings to open up to her was quite the feat in itself. 

Yet more precious and heartfelt to Amu was the knowledge that she had been trusted. She had been trusted with stories and emotions that none other had heard for years. Secretly, she smiled. These two were dear to her. 

But then, just as Amu was beginning to revel in the delight of this newfound friendship - just as she was about to slip deep into thought and consider where this new path of hers might lead - the two were startled, jumping as the hatchway flew open behind them. There was a scrabbling sound and a few hissed curses and, just when Utau was about to swoop over and unleash her fury upon whoever had dared to disturb the peace, Kukai popped his head up and crawled up onto the deck. Daichi hopped out of the darkness a second behind him, his beak full of crackers. He chirruped happily and followed his master as he ambled towards them. 

“Well, look who it is!” Kukai beamed, ignoring Utau’s scowls. “I _thought_ I heard voices! Didn’t know who’s on lookout, so I figured I oughta check.” 

Amu shook her head, grinning at his pathetic timing. Utau offered him perhaps the stoniest look she could have possibly mustered, her gaze darting from the oblivious smile on his face to the parrot at his feet. She raised one critical eyebrow. “Shouldn’t that bird be in his cage?” 

Kukai just grinned sheepishly. _“Ssh!”_ he whispered, placing a finger before his lips. He winked conspiratorially. “Don’t tell! ‘Sides, what’cha doing out here anyway?” 

A pause followed. Amu glanced over to Utau as she straightened up, putting up that front she’d learned to live behind and looking about ready to speak when- 

“Just getting some air.” Amu stepped in, inching away from the side of the ship and gesturing towards the night sky. “It’s not a bad night. Besides, it’s so stuffy in those cabins.” Kukai nodded, looking like he understood. Whatever humidity the girls suffered from in their cabins was nothing in comparison to the crew’s quarters down below. And she quickly turned her gaze back to Utau, smiling as gently as she could. “I should be getting back inside though. Good night, Utau.” 

Whatever message Amu had hoped to convey in that smile, she was delighted to find that Utau understood. The blonde nodded. Something warm was dancing in her eyes. “Night, Amu.” 

_“G’night, Your Highness!”_ Kukai called after her, oblivious to the atmosphere of the situation, but Amu just laughed, waving back at him as she made her way back across the deck and disappeared, slipping away into the darkness and vanishing before their eyes. A silence followed. Utau remained fixated on the sea. She barely even noticed Kukai sidle up to her. 

“Watchin’ the sky tonight, Utau?” 

She glanced at him only briefly before focusing back up at the night. “Yes…” 

“Bit cloudy, though,” he murmured; “shouldn’t think ta see much.” 

And Utau, following the path of a single wisp of cloud as it swept across the sky to obscure the still-shining moon, sighed lightly. 

“No matter.” she said. “It should clear up by tomorrow.” 

~.~.~

Bringers of doom were a belief widespread throughout the world. 

When the night was still and the air breathless; when the moon was obscured by cloud and all the stars veiled beneath the inky shadows of the night, they were said to appear. They crept out from the darkness, roused from their slumber by the chaos in their hearts, and they stalked those gloomy places where the moonlight could not reach. The clouds were their saviour, masking their terrible forms as they slipped through the late hours, wreaking havoc in their wake, for wherever they went dreadful things followed. 

Sagas. Myths. Fairy tales - all described them. All such legends in all such cultures told of their disastrous, unholy devilry. They foretold terrible things, it was said. The sight of their eyes in the dark was a sign of unfortunate things to come. They sought actively for unwary folk, dealing out judgement as they saw fit, winding the fear of death into the hearts of men, for nothing terrified mortals as the threat of oblivion. 

Kazuomi had heard of all such tales. In the west they spoke of wayward spirits that wandered the woodlands and preyed on unlucky travellers. In the cold north the cry of a mountain cat was as grim a foreshadowing as the shrieking of banshees. In the orient, nomadic folk were stricken at the slithering, sideways sweep of a snake, for their ancient tales told of serpentine sea creatures that preyed on their ships. Whirlpools were their coiling bodies; the line of their backs the rolling, tumbling waves; and so these men would dread the sight of such creatures along the coast. It was an omen - a warning sign sent from whatever ancient god might have existed high above the heavens. 

Yes, Kazuomi had heard them all. And, sure enough, he had doubted them for years. In all his time upon this earth, he had tipped back his hat and scoffed at the rituals of those superstitious, primitive people who still cowered in the darkness, praying for solace from the demons that they still believed plagued their world. 

But now… Now he understood. 

Now he realised. Now with all his heart he recognised that such symbols could shake a man to the very core; why these stories were told; he realised why the villagers in rural Seiyo still doused themselves in holy water as if their lives depended on it; why they prayed and pleaded and poured their gold into whatever protective wards they could afford… 

Because here, in this darkened little cabin with neither the moon nor the stars to shed light upon such gloom, Kazuomi's own dreaded omen of doom appeared before him. 

It was dark - as black as the oncoming night and it’s shadow cast such empty blackness about the room that Kazuomi felt as though he was being swallowed; swallowed up and eaten whole by some merciless creature that thrived on sordid souls; from which he could not escape. It fell out of the very night itself, its gigantic wings stretched out as a cloak to veil the stars, and landed with such grace and composure in the dingy cabin that it was almost a thing of beauty. Beautiful… Yet terrible and foreboding - a spirit of death without a doubt and a dreadful omen if Kazuomi had ever seen one. 

This was a bringer of doom. And he feared it. 

Perched upon the sill of the open window sat the largest, darkest, most rugged bird the Captain had ever seen. 

It’s wings trailing behind it’s back like the reaper’s cloak; it’s eyes glinting as two piercing stars; it’s beak as sleek and sharp as a newly-hewn blade, it turned to him, it’s gaze firm and unblinking. Kazuomi had never seen such intelligence in a creature’s eyes. He had never felt as though something so inhuman could might be able to delve deep into his very thoughts, reading every fear - every doubt; every _hint_ of hesitancy… And truly he was shaken by it’s unwavering stare as he tentatively picked his way across the cabin, treading water, holding his breath for fear that one wrong move might have the thing swooping for him and carrying him off to whatever fate its presence here foretold. 

But the bird remained motionless. The cabin remained silent. Kazuomi was close enough to reach it - close enough to reach out and throttle the thing if he so wished, but it just sat there. He extended one shaky hand… 

Finally it made a sound. A harsh, rough, ear-piercing caw resounded throughout the ship itself and Kazuomi jumped, his blood cold and his heart failing. The bird hopped closer and proffered out it’s leg. A scroll was bound there - a scorched, roughly-rolled piece of parchment. Kazuomi took it quickly and drew back towards his desk. 

If there was one message he didn’t want to recieve, it was the one attached to this omen’s claw.

But he had no choice. Struggle as he might against the roaring tide, his efforts would be futile. He would be consumed, dragged away into the darkness, for there was no stopping the waves of a fierce tsunami or the wind of a brutal hurricane. It was inevitable. It was unchangeable. It was hewn into the very stars themselves, laid bare before him in the shifting night sky… 

Just the bird’s presence here confirmed it. There was no use now. 

_‘Read it.’_ the bird seemed to say - seemed to command - over and over and over the longer he dallied. _‘Read it. Read it. Read it.’_

Kazuomi did. 

And, though he already knew of his peril, that message would never fail from that day forth to send an unshakeable, icy chill of terror down his spine. It would never fail to pool dread in the pit of his stomach. It would be with him as long as he lived - a brand on his skin; the ink saturated into his soul; that bounty placed upon his head going up, up, up. All of a sudden the wind had died. The seas had calmed. The ship ceased it’s incessant rocking, yet the peace was of no comfort to him, for Kazuomi was falling, tumbling into the abyss - into a never-ending maelstrom from which he could not escape, for the threat contained within that note would always be with him no matter how far he ran; no matter how hard he tried to hide... 

There was no doubt in his mind now. Bringers of doom did exist. 

There was one in his cabin right now. And his judgement was already dealt. 

Kazuomi threw the piece of parchment on his desk, flinging it away from his fingertips, for he felt it burn the flesh of his hand, and amidst the turmoil that had begun to rage in his blackened heart, he whirled at the bird on the window ledge. Just the sight of the thing was enough to chill his spirit. Just the knowledge that this creature still remained beside him was enough to set his teeth on edge; 

_“CLEAR OFF!”_

And he dove for his desk, snatching up an empty bottle, raising it above his head for the perfect throw… But the bird was already beginning to pick itself up off the window. With one last, deafening cry it spread it’s mighty wings, blacking out whatever light remained bright in the skies above and it was off - launching itself into the night, soaring above the line of the sea. A cascade of black feathers fell behind it and fluttered to the floor. Kazuomi could not bear to touch them. 

But there was no time. The seconds of his mortal clock were ticking by as he turned on his heel, blocking out the ringing in his ears as the raven cried out across the ocean beyond, and marched towards his door. He snatched the note, handling it as little as he possibly could, and stuffed it into his pocket. It lay there heavy - a burden on his soul as he emerged out onto the deck, deserted at this midnight hour, the clouds rolling in overhead. He made his way to the helm. His henchmen were gathered there, stony and resolute figures against the sky. 

“West.” 

The Captain did not need to say it twice. His men straightened, the underlying command hitting them swift and sudden, but they had no time to be taken aback. They had prepared for this very day, for even Kazuomi had known that this harbinger of death would soon be upon him. And so west they would go. Oh, it was treacherous. Oh, it was desperate and daring and oh-so perilous, for he and every man stood here tonight _knew_ where that path would take them… 

But it had to be done. 

Kazuomi could have sworn on the sky and the seas and all that was holy that he still saw that shadow sweep across the horizon as they changed their course and headed off into the night. The wind rushed past them, their sails picking up in the breeze, leading the way... And Kazuomi would be forever thankful for its haste. 

"This ship..." he murmured; "This ship has been good to me... This Shining Black..." 

And above them, the white diamond still shone against the sky - bright and unhindered even in this ominous darkness; their one trademark in this murky world. Not a name nor initial nor any form of written letter... No, whatever her name had once been - whatever the lettering on her transom had once read before - it was now unknown. This very frigate - it was mysterious. It was perplexing. It struck fear into the hearts of all who knew it. It conjured visions of grand ships eerily emerging from the fog across still waters, it’s features darkened in the dim light save for the bright white diamonds which stood out so magnificently on her sails… And on her stern. 

Yes, the Shining Black. She would guide him there. She would find her way through the night and unto his own salvation. The sky would clear and the clouds would part and she would vanish. She and all these men who sailed her would disappear into the darkness - into an abyss as black as the starless night itself and, a world away, beneath the light of the fading stars, the fortune-teller was struck with alarm, for even here in this room of many constellations their light was dimming, hissing out of existence as candles met with water. 

Tsukasa was pacing. He was wringing his hands. He glanced fretfully at the roof of his home as one by one those little lights darkened, his room failing, as dull as a diamond in the rough. 

“Yes…” he whispered, but for all the calm of his voice his eyes betrayed him. Wide and troubled - nay, near in _panic_ , fraught with worry they swept across the makeshift stars and watched in alarm as the shadows fell about them. “Yes… Yes, the skies should clear… But only as a breath of relief once the oncoming storm has been weathered - once all have braved the dreadful squall ahead…” 

And, frightfully, he cast a nervous glance up at that Key that danced so captivatingly above his head… Yet tonight it shone the dimmest of all. 

“Hold on, Marionette...” 

And Tsukasa breathed, his fingers clasped tight as if in prayer; 

“Hold on.” 

~.~.~


End file.
